It’s hard to believe that, in a city where there as many things to do as people to do them, you can fall in a rut.
Even though it’s not winter, it feels possible.
Work. Mindless tasks. Sleep. Repeat.
I’m not sure if this is the case with you or not, but I’m not good at juggling. I’m the kind of person who throws all three balls in the air at once, focuses intently on one and lets the other two fall on the ground. I can only do one thing well at a time. Plus, the weather has been so gloomy lately, it makes me want to curl up on the couch and deplete my Netflix queue.
It’s great to be reminded that everyday is not the same. This little strip of landscaping between work and the gym helps me keep things in check.
Last spring, it was filled with tulips (I heart). The one renegade red tulip among its yellow counterparts kills me. Also, notice how sunny it is?
Petunias in the summer...still sunny.
Imagine the pleasant surprise when I was snapped out of repetitiveness a few days ago with:
Fall mums (I love).
The fall colors I crave so much: a splash of crimson and marigold to dilute the gray.
Also, I will be here on Sunday. That helps.
There you have it: rut, interrupted.
Dear Chicago friends,
I’ve heard a lot of folks talking smack about summer lately.
As in, we really didn’t have one. I know…we’re all disoriented because we’re not sweltering in heat or suffocating in humidity. (In the famous words of that drugged-up kid from the dentist, “Is this real life?”)
However, you know, and I know, what is right around the corner. As a result, I am clinging on to summer for dear life. Here is how I know: A band was playing outside on the roofdeck right below my bedroom window last night. I wasn’t even mad. I was actually happy that summer made this possible.
Said band. Though only a two person band, I believe.
Since summer doesn’t officially end until September 21, I propose that we squeeze in more of this:
Because we’re just around the corner from:
Megan Boley dressed like an Eskimo.
Snow boots becoming a semi-permanent part of the wardrobe
Our favorite things blanketed in snow. Or make that just everything blanketed in snow...
...that eventually create potholes large enough to render you a missing person.
(Apologies for all the blurry iPhone photos)