10. No one can really
predict the end of the world, especially a weatherman. Not even Chicago’s own weather wunderkind,
Tommy Skilling. Just ask the cult leader who prepared a surprise party for the end of the world and was wrong. Three times.
9. Heightened
appreciation of warm drinks and hot showers.
8. The opportunity to
entertain the local birds and squirrels with my strange geometrical modern
dance with a shovel.
7. Shoveling is a
good workout. It has the added bonus of being able to feel superior to people
with snowblowers…who have the added bonus of feeling superior to me with my
happy little plastic shovels. Epic
Neighborhood Win!
6. The fluffiness of the stark white flakes is reminiscent
of marshmallows. Icy marshmallows of
hurtiness.
5. It clued me in to the nefarious conspiracy to commit the
perfect murder that was brewing in the gutters above my front porch. I have curtailed your evil plot, damnable
giant icicles!!
4. I can now place an add on Craigslist listing the giant
mounds of snow around my driveway and against my fences as, “Carriage-house
apartments for itinerant Eskimos – unique fixer-upper opportunity!”
3. Brownie points with the husband for manning up.
2. I have always wanted to live in Colorado, but was afraid
of the scary, scary mountain shadows.
1. The right to complain about winter just a few more times
before I have to change my whole schtick into, “The Top Ten Reasons Why Another
102-degree Day Is Not the End of the World.”
