My old man moved to San Diego.  Perfect weather all year around.  Maybe I'll move there when I'm eighty.  In the meantime, I'll be enjoying the shitty weather up here.  Chicago always had two weeks of arctic cold.  Sub-zero, snots freezing-in-your-nose temperatures.  It's senseless to live in such misery.  So why stay?  All that crap about seeing the four seasons, etc.?  No.  Now that I live in PA, the four seasons, especially fall and winter are stunningly beautiful, but I couldn't give a damn.  All that nature crap is lost on me.  August is ridiculously hot, it rains for six straight weeks in the spring, and all those beautiful leaves falling in September are a pain in the ass to rake.  But here's the thing:  There are a handful of perfect days every year.  75 degrees, not a cloud in the sky, with a gentle breeze blowing.  You treasure every minute of those days.  They're rare, and VALUABLE.  The euphoria of those four days make the other 361 days tolerable.

I just re-read that last paragraph.  That's the dumbest defense for living in the North that I have ever read.  There must be something wrong with me. 

The sucky weather has a few perks.  Yesterday Asia and I went sledding.  The hill is only a few blocks from our house: