Everybody's Working for the Wee-Wee-Weekend!

I bought new running shoes on Friday. I went to Fleet Feet Sports in Piper's Alley. I've never bought running shoes from them before. I waited for 20 minutes, holding a race bib with a "next customer" number on it. I wandered around the store, checking out shoes, triathlon gear (that's just crazy, though one day I would like to participate in one - give me 10 years, or maybe before my 30th year), and watching the general goings on about me while I waited.

I took the bus down North Avenue and then walked down Damen, after depositing a work check in the bank (I really need to get direct deposit -- save the trees, y'know?). Then, I got home and I thought, "Oh man. I really need to call Judy." (My step grandmother who lives in Evanston) So, I did. I expected the conversation to last 5-10 minutes. How silly I was! The conversation lasted about 45 minutes, with the first good-bye said at 30. My mother does the same thing, but I enjoy talking to my mother, for the most part, as she's super silly and says ridiculous things most of the time. Okay, okay. It was nice to catch up with Judy, but at the same time I couldn't help but think of her mean streaks of the past, and I was thinking about how I needed to get going on my run because I had plans to meet friends later in the evening.

This is boring stuff... I went running (IN MY NEW SHOES!), ate a slow dinner, drank some wine, and watched The Soup, then I got ready and went over to my friend's house and hung out outside until it started stormin', then we went inside to laugh, talk, and watch snippets of this Mystery Science Theater 3000 movie, Overdrawn at the Memory Bank with Raul Julia - wasn't really paying attention... but it seemed awful(ly confusing - there was a part where monkeys and giraffes were stumbling drunk around the Sahara). Then I went home and slept.

Saturday I did nothing productive... really, and it was incredible!! Laundry (folded it Sunday), guitar, laziness, Baby's Day Out (sooooo good 2nd time around, you might wish I was kidding, but I'm not, and excellently cast!), Apocalypto (which I didn't love or hate... and the way it was shot reminded me of a PBS special, I kept waiting for a British narrator to describe what was going on when I couldn't read the white subtitles), and sleep.

SUNDAY! I woke up and went for a run, supposed to be 14, but I'm hoping I got closer to 15 as I ran for 2 and 1/2 hours. Oh man, and I definitely should've applied the Vaseline more liberally because I got some chaffage on my underarms (not as bad as this guy). I tried to wish away the pain as I was running. Occasionally it worked and I would have 10-15 minutes of endorphins numbing out the discomfort, then it would strike back with full force. I wasn't the happiest. I had to keep going, I was miles away from home and without my CTA pass. As I ran I thought about the chaffage, I couldn't help myself. I would try to think about anything else; about the old man who was trying to cross the path with his dog and cursed the bikers for riding too fast, about the time Alli and Lisa (two of my best childhood friends) came to visit me over Easter weekend when I was a freshman at DePaul and we took pictures on the pier, and of course, as always, pining after the sweaty men running in front of me until they were out of sight, but it kept going back to the chaffing. And the thought of chaffing kept taking me back to staggering around the finish line after my first marathon. While I was searching for Alli, I walked past a marathoner man and his supportive wife. She gave him a water bottle and a banana and asked him how it went. He said it went well, and that he feels pretty good. Then she said, Oh my! You're bleeding. He said, what? And then I noticed that he had two bloody nipple circles. He said, well, what do you know! That's bad news bears right there! I couldn't imagine how he didn't feel that happening! I was disturbed, and feeling very sore. I took an ice bath, but I'm still walking around like a mummy today, oohing and ahhhing on the stairs. I wish I had a little child or a midget to sit under my chair and massage my calves right now and wiggle my toes and rub aloe vera on my shoulders (they could sit on the chair's arms for that).

I made it home. Showered and biked over to look at an apartment. No, no, no, no! Oh, it was just awful! "Studio-style" for $650. Horribly small with a slanted floor. The woman showing me (the landlord's daughter) mentioned the utilities weren't that expensive. She said all I had to pay for was gas and electricity. She said that they paid for the water. I raised my eyebrow, thinking, really? You pay for the water? I'm pretty sure the city pays for the water, which I'm sure is actually us paying the city in taxes, so the we all pay for water. So, while yes, I supposed you pay for the water, I do, too. Needless to say, I'm not going to live there. On my way home I really hoped that I would find a nice place to live with an affordable rent, in the same neighborhood. That's the clincher right there. I have a feeling it's not going to work out that way and it makes me very, very, very sad. I don't like moving. Moving during childhood has scarred me into believing that life-altering/shattering times are just beginning and this often results in me crying myself to sleep.

On a happier note, I also thought it would be pretty funny to write little stories about my life after spending 1 year in the places that I could potentially live in. Like living in this place for example, I'm fairly confident that my Spanish comprehension would increase ten-fold. And my living standards would be significantly lowered.

What else happened? I went to the grocery store and made some delicious eggs with sauteed spinach dusted with cumin, thyme, Italian seasoning, minced garlic and onion salt for dinner. Then I watched the Simpsons, read a little, and went to bed at 9:30. Call me grandma, and I'll punch you in the face. I was tired.