Jumping the Gun

It's mid-February in Chicago, so I am officially sick of winter. And because of this, I tend to behave prematurely as if it is Springtime. Spring comes in little teaser baby-steps, and I'm ready for a full-on gallop by this time of year. Of course,I am encouraged by the sporadic days in which the temperature climbs into the 50's, which it has done on TWO CONSECUTIVE SATURDAYS! However, I did freeze my ass off on three occasions this week, refusing to wear a winter coat when I left the house in the morning.

Last week I ran out and got my car washed. How it gleamed in the feeble winter-afternoon sunlight! And for a few days, my car was this little economy-car silver bullet of hope. Then we got snow and its shine is hidden once again under a patina of salt. Sigh.

Yesterday, another sunny and warm Saturday. I flung open the windows, walked to the drugstore in only a sweater, and sat on the porch to read. For some reason, I took yesterday's weather as a mandate to bust out the lovely rainbow-colored hammock I bought in Venezuela last summer and hang it out on my second-floor balcony.

After about an hour of trial and error with a length of clothesline, I got the hammock hung and the knots to hold my weight. Granted, it swings about four inches from the floor of the porch, but it's suspended and that's all that counts. I spent a lovely hour reading and swaying before it got dark and cold and I went inside for dinner and an evening of online chats with people who actually LIVE in hammock-friendly climates.

The delight in my hammock quickly switched to concern when I awoke at 9:30 this morning to gray skies. I knew it would rain. I rolled out of bed, grabbed the box of garbage bags, some tape, and some clothespins, and I went out to preserve my hammock. It was just starting to sprinkle. They say if you protect them from the elements, hammocks will last forever. So now, rather than seeing my cheerful hammock, hanging at the ready for my repose, I now have a grim black body bag trussed up on my tiny balcony. Half of the hammock is protected by the eaves, but the other half would have been soaked in today's miserable grayness.

Contrary to the weather reports, it's pouring. And cold. At least it's not snow.

Indoor/Outdoor living is not a luxury known to Chicagoans, who have to spend the year hiding indoors either from the stifling heat or the blistering cold. I think I'd better get used to the body bag, or figure out how to rehang the hammock so that it's totally under the eaves. But then the birds and squirrels would probably prey upon it. Fuck Chicago, man.

Yet another reason to move to Latin America: Hammock-friendly weather, and delightful indoor/outdoor spaces in which to hang them. Four more months, baby.