Yeah, so here in Chicago (and in most of the country), we have been having ourselves some weather. The word “snowthunder” became a reality. SNOMG!
When it began to snow yesterday, I hunkered down and did the best I could not to panic even though the howling wind sounded like it wanted to rip my air conditioner out of the window into which I’d set it.
I tweeted and re-tweeted about the storm, keeping an eye out for alerts from friends of people stuck in cars and buses on Lake Shore Drive, which was shut down (and continues to be shut down as of this writing). I wished I could be curled up in a nice hotel instead of in my needs-so-badly-to-be-cleaned studio apartment. Loads of hotels advertised deals for snowbound folks stuck downtown. When else would I be able to get a room at the Dana Hotel for $65 a night? Priorities! I have them.
There was a lot of talk about what to call this particular blizzard, with its snow and thunder and lightning. The blizzaster? Snotorious B.I.G.? I myself liked Snowprah Snowchocinco.
I woke up this morning and my street looked peaceful.
I thought I’d take a nice little jaunt over to Walgreen’s to buy more junk food. When I got downstairs to find the door to my building ripped off its hinges, I admit it. I almost chickened out.
But I went ahead and got my crap, but only after I made the fun if foolish decision to take my shortcut through the Nettelhorst School yard. It was beautiful, full of fluffy virgin snow. Snow that went all the way up past my knees, and soaked through my socks to my feet.
At least Punxsutawney Phil, the groundhog made famous by the movie Groundhog Day, did not see his shadow today. Which means an early spring. That little rodent better not be wrong.