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Oct. 15th, 2018 04:31 pm
Open Heart Chicago
Today was a profoundly stupid day. I didn't prepare training materials for my student and thought I'd just wing it. So of course they were shot through with problems. After I put him on a different project, I thought I'd ask a colleague about one of them. In asking another colleague where she sat, I confused her name with that of my boss and it was minutes of confusion before I figured out what I'd done. She wasn't there anyway and neither was anyone else who could've helped me.
Whatever, it's almost over. And Postillero is texting me again. The radio silence made me a bit melancholy but it turns out he was in Ireland. He's away in Mexico for half this week and into next so no tryst for ten days and it's making me so horny I actually tried to get in touch with Clueless Furball again, which went exactly as well as you would think. He really is spectacularly bad at basic communication, to a degree that makes me wonder how he made it this far.
Fortunately I anticipated that and took responsibility for my happiness entirely into my own hands yesterday. I did make it to Open House Chicago, though only after taking all Saturday off to recuperate from life. And I scowled the whole way down on the el, telling myself this had better be worth getting out of bed before noon for. Long story short, it was. I didn't see the most interesting sites (not without a membership or the sense to RSVP), but every place I went had something interesting about it.
Sometimes the most interesting bit was who I ended up talking to, like the earnest preservationist at the Cliff Dwellers or the hip young architect at Eastlake Studio or the guide-in-training at the Driehaus Museum. But the best--and least expected--conversation was the one I had at Tee Gschwender between 4 and 6 in the p.m. when, feeling achy and a bit dumb, I stopped in to refresh myself and ended up blathering away with a retired veteran, an aspiring social worker, and a baby dyke about to fly to Amsterdam.
So what did it matter ultimately that CF missed every hint I hurled at him to invite me over afterwards for bouncy fun times? I had a bemused waitress at Matsuya and my online posse to banter with instead. There was a lot of Monshu in my thoughts, of course, but also glimpses of the glittering potential of this city and my place in it.
Whatever, it's almost over. And Postillero is texting me again. The radio silence made me a bit melancholy but it turns out he was in Ireland. He's away in Mexico for half this week and into next so no tryst for ten days and it's making me so horny I actually tried to get in touch with Clueless Furball again, which went exactly as well as you would think. He really is spectacularly bad at basic communication, to a degree that makes me wonder how he made it this far.
Fortunately I anticipated that and took responsibility for my happiness entirely into my own hands yesterday. I did make it to Open House Chicago, though only after taking all Saturday off to recuperate from life. And I scowled the whole way down on the el, telling myself this had better be worth getting out of bed before noon for. Long story short, it was. I didn't see the most interesting sites (not without a membership or the sense to RSVP), but every place I went had something interesting about it.
Sometimes the most interesting bit was who I ended up talking to, like the earnest preservationist at the Cliff Dwellers or the hip young architect at Eastlake Studio or the guide-in-training at the Driehaus Museum. But the best--and least expected--conversation was the one I had at Tee Gschwender between 4 and 6 in the p.m. when, feeling achy and a bit dumb, I stopped in to refresh myself and ended up blathering away with a retired veteran, an aspiring social worker, and a baby dyke about to fly to Amsterdam.
So what did it matter ultimately that CF missed every hint I hurled at him to invite me over afterwards for bouncy fun times? I had a bemused waitress at Matsuya and my online posse to banter with instead. There was a lot of Monshu in my thoughts, of course, but also glimpses of the glittering potential of this city and my place in it.