Living further north, I’ve quickly come to perceive what I once considered a marvel of nature as a major meteorological inconvenience. The fuzzy flakes that in Oklahoma would’ve made me push my face against the window and gasp with wonder now just elicit a grunt through my thrice-wrapped infinity scarf while I poke around on the Transit app for a quicker route home. My butt muscles hurt from dragging Thorin Oakenboots through increasingly grayer slush. Once a day I give serious thought to purchasing a bank robber-chic ski mask to keep my nose from chipping off. Thank God I didn’t let my mom talk me into a “more flattering” winter coat—my calf-length wearable sleeping bag has saved me from Jack Torrance’s fate.
On the morning of my first interview with a temp agency, I overslept by my usual sixty minutes (call it a European streak) and failed to appropriate enough time to wrangle a resume out of my roommate’s printer. In my frenzy to locate my social security card at the last minute, I failed to equip myself with the hat and gloves necessary to face the 4-degree day. Twenty minutes later I hunkered inside a randomly-selected business building downtown, weepily pleading with the Voldemort claws that had replaced my hands as I attempted to operate Google maps.
Long story short, kids–put on all your gear. This includes thermal leggings under clearance H&M slacks. You’ll quickly forget the peculiarly high and puckery drawstring waistband and bless the extra layer insulating you from the below-zero gales gusting you sideways on the sidewalk. With enough layers, you might even find yourself up for aimlessly wandering near the [former] Sears Tower in an attempt to remind yourself why you deliberately relocated to a port of arctic doom.
One extra recommendation: stock up on every sweet-smelling dermatological spread you can get your chapped paws on. Moisturize. Everywhere. Your nipples will thank you.