Coca’Cola and decaffeinated coffee. That’s how I start my day. As this dual sustenance somehow allows, for me, to duel to a draw the perpetual overcast of Chicago by the lake, in late winter…our Russian Spring.
The cold and damp and grey, ain’t going anywhere. Anytime soon.
“I like Chicago because of the three seasons.” July, August, and Winter.
One can become immune, but two, always tested anew. Plug in a pandemic, wire that into a Presidential election year, and season all with the virus of Social Media, and its’ all shivs and shivers and a chorus of Clorox.