Inhumane cold has hit Chicago. Last week’s predicted blizzard never arrived, I guess, to make room for its plus one plumped with steroids. Last night the temperature was -9 degrees Fahrenheit. Now it’s a toasty -2. My husband’s work called for remote work today. My daughter’s school and the college I tutor writing at are closed. Though we have heat and a portable heater in the kitchen, I borrowed my daughter’s new rose-colored hoodie to wear over my black Joy Division t-shirt featuring the image from its final album Closer. And my feet? Though they are mismatched, I am wearing two insulated fluffy house slippers. When it’s this cold, who has time for style and fashion? One of my husband’s favorite clichés is “Any port in a storm.”
I started working on my next post for my free subscribers last night about Project 2025 and its plans for Voice of America; I may work on it a little more later this afternoon. But as I made my morning coffee, I thought, “Honey. Work some more on your novel.”
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