Snow.

This has been a brutal winter. Only in Chicago would you spend 15 minutes wrapping scarves around your body, covering every bit of skin possible while still allowing yourself room to breathe. Then you step outside and enjoy the first 20 seconds or so before your body registers the negative temps, thinking, Oh, this isn't so bad, this... this... and then your teeth begin to chatter. The mascara you shouldn't have bothered to put on begins streaming in tears down your face from your eyes, that shouldn't really be exposed to these sorts of conditions.

At least sometimes snow is pretty. Sometimes.