It’s a cliche to bitch about the weather in Chicago, but I can’t help it today. Five stops into my El ride, and my toes are, um, uncomfortably numb and the fingers typing this don’t feel much better.

As I drove to the Kimball Park and Ride this morning, the thermostat on my dash read “-15.” That would place the windchill somewhere in the 30 below range. Tell me again: Why have I lived here all my life? It’s a rhetorical question, and I’m the first to acknowledge that the items in Chicago’s plus column far outweigh the case against the city’s quality of life.

I just need to remember those things as I search for feeling in my extremities. Best summers ever. Best music ever. Coolest buildings ever. Best restaurants ever.

Whew. I feel better. Ish.

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