Ah, springtime in Chicago...70° and sunny one day, 30° and snow the next. An apt analogy to life in general.
I have talked to people from out of town who visit Chicago in the spring and summer, and without exception, they have been amazed at how the tiniest jump in temperature brings the locals out in shorts and flip-flops, when most sane people are still bundled up.
We are a hardy bunch up here, no doubt, and we know how to make the most of what we get. How can you really appreciate a 45° day in February or March, if you hadn't had a below-zero windchill the day before? And how else to explain why my mother insists on having a pool, even though she only gets to use it a couple dozen times a year?
And in the spirit of experiencing the nasty so that the not-so-good seems all that much better, I think I will go make snow angels before taking a shower with a broken water heater...
It's all about perspective.
Minnesotans are in shorts and tanks as soon as the temps hit 50. Then the kids all start to show up to school with pink shoulders and knees.
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