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Spring appears to finally be on its way — and in Chicago that means a transitional and diverse weather period that resembles the first hour of The Day After Tomorrow. Between patches of heavy snowfall after a week of 60 degree days, and nights so foggy they’d put a nervous poopie in Ichabod Crane’s pantaloons, I feel like I’m living on a remote island in the North Atlantic.

Climate change be damned, I blame The Niño.

Curious to learn more? Look no further…

This is all a bit of throwaway footy, so I apologize for the lackluster photo updates so far this week. I’m drunk and need content, so suffice to say I didn’t labor over the decision to post them for very long. Shots that may or may not be less mediocre coming soon.