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If they can dye the river green today, why can't they dye it blue the other 364 days of the year? -- The Fugitive

I didn't wear green today. I probably should have, and don't know why I didn't, since easily three-quarters of my wardrobe is green. Besides, St. Patrick's Day might be the most aesthetically cheap of all American holidays, but it's the closest thing we have to a true spring fertility festival. All that colour.

Spring is definitely on its way. You can smell it in the air, in Chicago anyway. Rain is coming and the air has lost the painful bite it's had for the last few months. I called it "The Chicago Wince" to someone the other day -- the instinctive face you make when you step outside, chin tucking down and shoulders pulling inwards because holy shit, who knew the world could be this cold.

So in honour of shrugging off the Chicago Wince, I walked down to the river on my lunch hour to see if they really do dye it green and by god, they do.

(no subject)

Mother Nature, you mother fucker.

Not ten minutes after I posted about SPRING BEING HERE HOORAY, it started to snow.

Also, That Girl and her dog are here.

I'm going to bed.