In Chicago we had the season of "fall" last for, oh, a few days before we got buried in snow all day Halloween. Yesterday was downright frigid and right now the temperature is in the teens, with only a smidge of hope that'll it'll move upward much over the course of the day. This weekend we should poke into the 40s (Fahrenheit, for anyone not lodged in that temperature system) and I guarantee I'll see people walking down my block in shorts and hoodies. It's just how Midwesterners roll.
During my job hunt this year, due to the state of the Chicago market at the time, I had finally opened myself up to relocation to Warner climates after years of resisting such a move. Maybe I should have focused more on that!
Aw, who am I kidding? By this point I'm probably a Chicagoan until my death. I mean, I'm way too old to take up surfing or something like that. And I grew up in South Texas so I know what it's like to have 360 days of summer—and 5 of "winter" where people wore heavy coats as the temperature dropped to a freezing 60° F (ha!). So it's not like I've had to suffer in the freezing cold all of my life.
Plus, a move would so confuse Pickle the Kitten. Right now she's got her seasons down, as far as where she hangs out during the day: spring is when she sleeps on the couch, summer is when she sleeps on the footstool or windowsill (wherever the sunbeam is at the time), and winter is when she actually puts forth the effort to make the leap upward and sleep in my bed. I've finally got her fit enough to make that jump, so I don't want to risk it by relocating her somewhere she'll inhabit a windowsill year-round!
So, Chicago it is.
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