Autumn finally arrived. Again, I wasn't sad to see the summer end...if only I had known then what I know now. Days became a little more cloudy and rain became more frequent. Oblivious to soul shattering misery that is Chicago weather, I thought nothing of it. My birthday is a fall event, I have always enjoyed the switch from shorts and T-shirts to jeans and sweatshirts, and college football was starting up (nothing is more blissful than watching the Husker Blackshirts smash an opposing QB into a lifeless puddle on the turf.) Needless to say, my spirits were high. In fact, my spirits towards the weather stayed high until about May. Hailing from Omaha, NE, I am no stranger to life ending cold. Upon my arrival in Chicago everyone bombarded me with statements like, "Are you ready for the winter?" Or, "Get ready winter is coming." Each comment made with overly exaggerated ominous qualities. Truthfully, winter wasn't so bad. Yeah it snowed a lot, and yeah the slush on every street corner required an Olympic triple jump maneuver to bypass wet socks. However, the snow usually melted within a few days. It wasn't like Omaha, where it snows in October and that snow freaking stays until April. Chicago got cold, but I took it. I expected it to get cold. I believe my expectation of the cold, as it rightfully should be during the winter months, is what made it easy to handle. That, and the agreement Mother Nature had with God that sunlight would be an essential part of life on Earth. Apparently old Mother Nature is a lying whore, who in her hundredth eon is losing her touch. Here's a hint you blue haired bitch, this little patch of land located in the middle of America, yeah we still get four seasons.
The final motivator to keep trekking through winter were the numerous promises I received regarding the "mecca" of all summers. Remember those sensationalists, the ones that kept warning me of a terrible winter. Well, for everyone one of those ignorant bastards there were 50 times more raving about the majestic Chicago summers. Daryl down the street would say, "Don't worry, the summers here are amazing." Eddy from work used to tell me daily, "I spend every weekend at the beach, my tan is freaking sweet." Like I cared about Ed's freaking tan. The message was clear, Chicago must have an amazing summer. The idea of unparalleled warmth and sunlight was planted in my brain, and I was ready for summer.
Thus far my Chicago weather was right on par. It wasn't until mid May when I started to worry. It was raining daily, and temperatures had yet to rise to an acceptable "warm month" level. Initially I chalked it up to an abnormally rainy spring, which just meant we were getting the crappy weather out of the way for bliss sure to come. Well, my bliss never came...ever. The summer never produced anything remotely acceptable for summer weather. I am pretty sure I was wearing a sweatshirt on the forth of July. That last statement can't be made with 100% surety, but considering it rains all the time in Chicago and I am constantly cold, lets just go ahead and assume I am telling the truth. Around the end of July I began asking myself where exactly am I living. Is this Seattle? No, Seattle can't hold a candle to this shitty weather. Perhaps Alaska, considering the seemingly endless days without sunshine. No not Alaska either, the Northern Lights provide some illumination. I finally concluded I actually was living in Chicago, IL. Or Siberia. I haven't been able to decipher any differences between the tundra from either location, so it's Chicago, IL, or Siberia. Some hope still lay buried deep in my now frozen heart that August would bring some pleasantness. Nope, wrong again. I only blame myself for being optimistic, which only made the crash back to reality that much more demoralizing.
Who knew my body actually required a few months of nice weather before I lost all capability of rational thought and reason? As each rain filled crap shoot, a.k.a. a day, passes I slip further and further into some psychopathic abyss. Let this be a warning to all you Daryl and Eddy's out there. All you promisers of heaven on Earth, June-August. I'm out there. And when I find you, don't give me lines such as, "Oh this was an off year usually we have fantastic summers, please don't water board me." I didn't listen to the ones that already fed me those lines, and I won't be listening again until I personally witness some decent weather. It boils down to a waiting game. Either I will find each and every one of the aforementioned individuals, or I will lose my freaking mind sometime this upcoming winter. Which will most likely lead to my plunge through the ice on Lake Michigan to a watery demise. So, twelve months living in Chicago and this god forsaken weather has broken me. The lake-effect, aint it a bitch.
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