Because My Life is Boring, You Shall Suffer Too...
I was all set to go to the gym and then head to Target this afternoon to pick up a few things I need around the house.
So I was really disappointed when I got in my/mom's Malibu, which is currently parked on Glenwood next to my building (I practically had to fuck the devil to get that spot last Sunday), and couldn't get out of my parking space. It seems that during the week, what had been an innocuous mud puddle along the curb had refrozen, effectively trapping my right front tire in a neat sleeve of ice. That's what I get for cavorting with The Evil One (and that was just my alderman). Turning the wheel and trying to rock the car back and forth did absolutely nothing, except perhaps polish the ice and wear the tires (I started to smell rubber after a few minutes, so I gave up).
Since I wasn't going to be driving my car anytime soon, and the CTA itinerary to the gym and Target would have been like planning a pilgrimage to Tibet, I decided to stick to my immediate nabe and walk up Clark Street to the newly-remodeled Dominick's near Howard Street for the grocery items, then mosey over to the Marshall's in the same shopping center for the other stuff.
The entire journey took a little longer than I'd anticipated, because I decided, since I was walking past it, to stop in at my local branch of the Chicago Public Library and get a few mysteries, since I hadn't checked them out in a while.
This put me, as it always does, at the tender mercies of the librarian that I've come to refer to lovingly as Frog Lips. Frog Lips embodies every complaint that a person has ever leveled against a city employee: she's slow, kinda cranky and clearly doesn't give a shit about your time. You could be waiting for life-saving medicine instead of waiting to check out a book, and I think Frog Lips would watch you die just to see your corpse slowly turn green. And she'd take her time watching that, too.
Today wasn't really an exception. After I'd found the two books that I wanted, I made my way, not without trepidation, to the checkout desk. Yep, FL was waiting on a lady in line before me, but it was that lady who was doing most of the waiting. You see, it seems as though she'd put a book on hold about a month previously and was stopping in to see if they had it. Poor bitch--I could have told her it wouldn't be that simple. FL was checking the computer in the way that she always does (as if it's the first time she's ever laid eyes on the goshdarned, newfangled contraption), then called several different branches to see if they had it (well, I can UNDERSTAND that part--she does have to check around), then went back to the goshdarned computer.
During this time, three children left the library, graduated high school and college, got married, had children, got divorced, and are currently consulting a cosmetic surgeon for hairplugs.
Eventually, however, FL finished waiting on the poor woman (who had since begun menopause and was fanning herself furiously) and checked my two books out. She asked if I'd like to receive e-mail updates, but I had aged so much that I'd become hard of hearing, so she had to repeat herself. Which made her even more cheerful. But, to her credit, she was fairly polite during our transaction, and I got my two books and got the hell out of there. Fast.
Next it was on to Dominick's. Boy, was I glad I went! They had asparagus on sale for $1.00 a pound!! I grabbed me two pounds, and got coffee, shaving cream and a bottle of inexpensive (OK, cheap) merlot.
Flush with my shopping success, I headed over to Marshall's to get some new pillows (I have company coming soon, and perhaps it's OK for me to lay my head on lumpy old foam pillows from Ikea that are 3 years old, but I won't have a guest doing it--especially if I want him to check in again sometime)...
In some ways, it was my lucky day--the Lord taketh away car functionality and library swiftness, but he really laid on the bargain-hunting luck today. Just look at the two feather pillows I picked up for $15.00 (that's for the pair):
Ain't they beauts? And my luck didn't end there--I also found a really soft queen-sized blanket on sale, in a color I didn't already have:
Feeling oh-so-pleased with myself, I made my purchases and decided to take the L home. They've opened the atrium building that goes down to the ground level of the CTA station, so I no longer have to walk down that hill to Howard Street, then all the way over. I didn't even mind the CTA employee throwing his haughty fish-eye over all the customers as if to say "Hey, look at me. I work here. I get to control how fast this train goes." Or the fact that we sat at Howard Street station for what seemed like a half hour, making it seem more like an airliner waiting for takeoff clearance than a mundane city transit train which makes the same route every 15 minutes (or is supposed to, anyway).
And now I'm home, where I can enjoy my mysteries, cheap wine and a nice soak in the tub...perhaps I'll venture out later, smelling all sweet and shit. Sometimes it's good to be me.
(But I still wouldn't recommend it.)
So I was really disappointed when I got in my/mom's Malibu, which is currently parked on Glenwood next to my building (I practically had to fuck the devil to get that spot last Sunday), and couldn't get out of my parking space. It seems that during the week, what had been an innocuous mud puddle along the curb had refrozen, effectively trapping my right front tire in a neat sleeve of ice. That's what I get for cavorting with The Evil One (and that was just my alderman). Turning the wheel and trying to rock the car back and forth did absolutely nothing, except perhaps polish the ice and wear the tires (I started to smell rubber after a few minutes, so I gave up).
Since I wasn't going to be driving my car anytime soon, and the CTA itinerary to the gym and Target would have been like planning a pilgrimage to Tibet, I decided to stick to my immediate nabe and walk up Clark Street to the newly-remodeled Dominick's near Howard Street for the grocery items, then mosey over to the Marshall's in the same shopping center for the other stuff.
The entire journey took a little longer than I'd anticipated, because I decided, since I was walking past it, to stop in at my local branch of the Chicago Public Library and get a few mysteries, since I hadn't checked them out in a while.
This put me, as it always does, at the tender mercies of the librarian that I've come to refer to lovingly as Frog Lips. Frog Lips embodies every complaint that a person has ever leveled against a city employee: she's slow, kinda cranky and clearly doesn't give a shit about your time. You could be waiting for life-saving medicine instead of waiting to check out a book, and I think Frog Lips would watch you die just to see your corpse slowly turn green. And she'd take her time watching that, too.
Today wasn't really an exception. After I'd found the two books that I wanted, I made my way, not without trepidation, to the checkout desk. Yep, FL was waiting on a lady in line before me, but it was that lady who was doing most of the waiting. You see, it seems as though she'd put a book on hold about a month previously and was stopping in to see if they had it. Poor bitch--I could have told her it wouldn't be that simple. FL was checking the computer in the way that she always does (as if it's the first time she's ever laid eyes on the goshdarned, newfangled contraption), then called several different branches to see if they had it (well, I can UNDERSTAND that part--she does have to check around), then went back to the goshdarned computer.
During this time, three children left the library, graduated high school and college, got married, had children, got divorced, and are currently consulting a cosmetic surgeon for hairplugs.
Eventually, however, FL finished waiting on the poor woman (who had since begun menopause and was fanning herself furiously) and checked my two books out. She asked if I'd like to receive e-mail updates, but I had aged so much that I'd become hard of hearing, so she had to repeat herself. Which made her even more cheerful. But, to her credit, she was fairly polite during our transaction, and I got my two books and got the hell out of there. Fast.
Next it was on to Dominick's. Boy, was I glad I went! They had asparagus on sale for $1.00 a pound!! I grabbed me two pounds, and got coffee, shaving cream and a bottle of inexpensive (OK, cheap) merlot.
Flush with my shopping success, I headed over to Marshall's to get some new pillows (I have company coming soon, and perhaps it's OK for me to lay my head on lumpy old foam pillows from Ikea that are 3 years old, but I won't have a guest doing it--especially if I want him to check in again sometime)...
In some ways, it was my lucky day--the Lord taketh away car functionality and library swiftness, but he really laid on the bargain-hunting luck today. Just look at the two feather pillows I picked up for $15.00 (that's for the pair):
Ain't they beauts? And my luck didn't end there--I also found a really soft queen-sized blanket on sale, in a color I didn't already have:
Feeling oh-so-pleased with myself, I made my purchases and decided to take the L home. They've opened the atrium building that goes down to the ground level of the CTA station, so I no longer have to walk down that hill to Howard Street, then all the way over. I didn't even mind the CTA employee throwing his haughty fish-eye over all the customers as if to say "Hey, look at me. I work here. I get to control how fast this train goes." Or the fact that we sat at Howard Street station for what seemed like a half hour, making it seem more like an airliner waiting for takeoff clearance than a mundane city transit train which makes the same route every 15 minutes (or is supposed to, anyway).
And now I'm home, where I can enjoy my mysteries, cheap wine and a nice soak in the tub...perhaps I'll venture out later, smelling all sweet and shit. Sometimes it's good to be me.
(But I still wouldn't recommend it.)
posted by Aaron at 5:30 PM
7 Comments:
Sounds like the perfect Saturday. Love the pillows. I have to go the library to see Frog Lips live and in person SOON!!! Just to gawk at her. :)
I can see your dirty pillows...
It is good to live in the Aaron Manse. Tomorrow the ice will melt but only for a short time so perhaps the car can be moved then? Have your driver to bring it around. Your 18 year old Butler will make sure your guests are comfy. It might be a good idea to let him wear clothes while company is there. FL better be careful, we are not amused by slothful stupidity. Have a great Sabbath, Sire. Ed
Stephen: If you guys are doing "Lyle" again at Lifeline, just swing over to the Rogers Park branch south of Morse on Clark Street some evening before 9:340 (5:00 on Saturdays)...she'll be there, believe me! Oh, and check out her 1965 hairdo that seems to have fallen sometime between the "teasing" phase and the "making curls out of nothing at all" phase...
BC: These are different pillows--and I'll bet Father Gravity will be kinder to them than he was mine or poor old Margaret White's. ;-)
Ed: I'm looking forward to the brief thaw tomorrow, when I can finally drive to the gym, Joans rehearsal, and come back to park on level ground (where the street doesn't slope against the curb so much). As far as the butler, if I had one, he would have run screaming away by now...!
Um, did you purposely gloss over the part about the male guest to see if we'd notice? 'Cause I totally did. And we totally want more dish.
So spill already...
*information door slides open*
Let's just say restraints were involved, but he had to bring his own, because I had none. But now I know where to get them and how useful cargo straps are!
(I thought you'd like that part!)
*Information door slides shut*
Oh, no you don't Mister -- we're not letting you off that easy!
We (and I speak for Ed and Stephen as well...whether they want me to or not) expect a post chock full o' blistering debauchery involving said restraints and naughty bits post haste.
Or a reasonable facsimile thereof.
Post a Comment
<< Home