It's September. Summer is drawing to a close. Nothing is as important to a struggling, underemployed, still-adjusting transplant like beautiful weather, a sparkling lake, and acres and acres of beautiful greenery. I feel like I've taken full advantage of summer in Chicago, and yet, somehow, I feel like I've taken it for granted, because I'm very sorry to see it go.
To recap summer in Chicago, a few things bear repeating.
1. They're called skorts. Quit looking at me weird.
2. A bicyclist should, indeed, keep her mouth closed while traversing the Lake Shore Trail at a high rate of speed, lest she find herself choking on the hard-thoraxed insect of inevitability.
3. Hand-holding rollerbladers are agents of darkness and should have their wheels revoked.