As if we needed more bad news, it turns out February is right around the corner. Again. It’s one of the most depressing times to be in Chicago (especially if you’re unhappily sans valentine).
Need some help making the shortest month go by even faster? We got you:
“Go to as many dentist offices as you can. Steal all the lead X-ray aprons, fashion them into a sensible lead caftan/bonnet set, hide in an old underground Al Capone tunnel ... and relax until Trump gets us all nuked. This will be Feb. 4, at the latest.”
—John Loos
“Cats and wine. I prefer a New Zealand sauvignon blanc, and my two cats lean more towards pinot meow. I pour each of us a glass, and we talk about the real issues. It’s very cathartic.”
—Lauren Phillips Welke
“Crowded CTA trains provide all the benefits of cuddling, with none of the commitments.”
—Tyler Davis
“Keep your cross-country skis waxed and your eyes peeled for King Spa Groupons.”
—Rob Gornik
“A space heater and chocolate.”
—Bob Knuth
“Get you a beer and a bae. They usually go hand in hand.”
—Martin Morrow
“Live next door to a Walgreens, adopt a gerbil and work from home all month.”
—Michael Larimer
“Buy all the cheap candy the day after Valentine’s. Use it to insulate your house. Or eat it and insulate your body.”
—Tim Ryder
“Transfer your rear patio furniture to the front lawn so you’re ready to beat your neighbors at declaring parking spot dibs.”
—Rene Duquesnoy
“Crafts! Make a DIY Advent calendar, and fill it with 28 days’ worth of NyQuil, Benadryl and Ambien.”
—Liz Kozak
“Have a baby in early January. Then you’ll just be inside for all of February.”
—Kerry Sheehan
“I highly recommend having a birthday in February. It’s the best decision I ever made!”
—Winter Davis
“Keep busy if you’re single. Go see live theater. I hear Second City has a couple of shows you should check out. You don’t even need a date—go by yourself. (All the cool kids do.)”
—Heather Whinna
“Leave. (Find the cheapest flight to anywhere with sun and warmth, and get out of town.)”
—Clementine Zavelle
Take your clean laundry and fashion it into a fort. Enter that fort on Groundhog Day only to emerge, butterfly-like, refreshed and re-energized, sometime in March. Or April, if you’re fancy.”
—Jack Bronis
This post also appears at redeyechicago.com