Credit- Farmers’ Market

There are many reasons that it’s lovely to be back in a big city, but the farmers’ markets available to Chicagoans almost every day of the week are the clencher.

Sure, it could be considered a very girly thing to love, I saw many a man being dragged by his significant other pretending this was a great substitute for college football. But there’s something about the crisp fall air and the crunching sounds your footsteps make that really should make you happy. Grabbing a cup of refreshingly-not-overpriced coffee then taking a few recon’ trips around the entire market always appeals to my peaceful side, while my more aggressive side finds satisfaction staking out the last bunch of French breakfast radishes whilst being sized up by the overdressed 30-something mothers, warpaint caked on their faces, that think they can intimidate people with their ridiculous jogging strollers. I see you have your adorable child with you, but could you please avoid rolling over my feet while using Bobby as a bulldozer?

Oh dear, this post has actually gone South a lot quicker than I would have imagined. I didn’t start this post with the intention of being quite so snarky, but you have to admit those people make you want to beat their heads against the nearest wall in an attempt to help Darwinism make up some of the obvious slack.

On that note, let’s throw people who go out in public and make a mockery of their pets into that pile of people:

Yeah, the freaking dog is wearing a skirt.

That said, I’m endlessly pleased to report that I stocked up on the entirely (non)essential items to which my spoiled urban self is accustomed and will post the results of brunch in due course!

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