Spring has not spring (or, We only have two seasons in Chicago)

This is why I hate Chicago.

Today it is a balmy 60 degrees. Though rainy, it is still pleasant outside. I didn't shiver in the early morning cold while waiting for the bus. My coat was unnecessary when walking from the gym to work this morning. I'm wearing a skirt, but I don't fear an evening chill when I leave the office for dinner and theater tonight.

The gloves, scarves, and hats have all been removed. Everyone on the streets has opted for lighter coats and are actually visible without all the winter accoutrements. Chicagoans are thinking about baseball, the lake, outdoor happy hours, and flip flops.

But true Chicagoans know that with these early Springlike days come late Wintry days. Many of the worst snowfalls I remember have occurred after February. What makes them especially painful is their timing. Once March rolls around, we in the Windy City start crossing our fingers, not even saying the "s" word for fear that we'll jinx ourselves and remain in the artic freeze. And since this Winter has been quite mild, it would be entirely appropriate for Mother Nature to dump a few feet of that stuff on us.

Nonetheless, I'm looking forward to my weekend of 60-degree springtime weather, which will only be followed by a blizzard.