Must...keep...packing......

Just a quick stop in the hustle and bustle of packing. I haven't yet showered, I can't stop sneezing from ingesting dust and cat hair. Well, this should explain it all. I look like this:

Daniel posted my bed on Craigslist this morning for free and I got a call within about 1.44 minutes. I sold it to a nice man named Steve, who has been sleeping on the floor of his apartment because his air mattress popped. For me, the bed was old and starting to be springy. For Steve, it's going to be the best sleep he's had in weeks. It makes me feel good. I would feel even better if someone would throw a little cash my way and take my dresser and kitchen stand off my hands. But what can you do?

Yesterday was a busy and productive one. I decided to jet over to my nearby Treasure Island grocery store to hit its salad bar for lunch and found myself in the middle of an episode of "The Wire." As I was walking from my car to the store, police cars came from all directions, seemingly cornering me. I asked an employee standing outside whether I shouldn't go in and he assured me, "Nah, it's all under control."

I proceeded inside, and as I cut through one of the checkout lanes, was overwhelmed with the shouts "Down on the ground!" from about six cops who seemed already to have their target, the kid who so lovingly has weighed my produce for the last four years, face down on the ground. I'm not sure why 6 officers were needed to keep this 130-pound kid on the ground, to whom they then shouted "On your back!" although they were holding him face down on the floor.

Anyway, I wanted my salad, so I kind of tip-toed past them and went about my business. In the back, I saw another employee with bloodied arms who looks just like Nathan from The Wire, ponytail and all, shaking his head and explaining to other employees that it all started when he asked face-down-on-the-ground-produce-guy to get out of his way and the Spanish expletives started to fly. Ah... nothing like a fist fight between grocery store teens to give the Chicago cops something to do...

Sally and I headed out in the afternoon to get our nails done at Tres Bien Nails on Armitage, just east of Sheffield. Now, why would I be getting my nails done when I have some serious packing to do, which will no doubt destroy them? Logical question. I got Sal a gift certificate to the place for her birthday back in January and have not had the time or money to accompany her. Since I'm walking the Chicago plank, we scheduled it for this week (and a Wednesday when they have their mani-pedi special). I went with black for my fingernails, since it will hide their destruction better, not to mention whatever gets under my nails. I've been going to this place for years and have gotten several friends on board for their Wednesday special. I mentioned I was moving, as I gave my punch card type thing to Sally. Upon my exit, the owner handed me a little gift bag with a card (addressed to me -- must have gotten it off my credit card -- SMART) and a black OPI nail polish, along with a bottle of top coat and base coat. I was beyond surprised and very touched that they would do such a thing.

Then it was off to Cleo's for my favorite grilled cheese in the whole wide world -- giant and with a shallot-herb aioli. Even better was that Chatman was working! Chatman with whom I worked on oh so many Saturdays at The Local Option. A very drunk man took our picture, so we could commemorate the reunion and good-bye.



OK, I no longer can sit here and procrastinate. I have oh, so much to do. Greek outing with Sally, Echo and Jon tonight, just before Daniel's arrival on the train. Or, knowing Amtrak, hours and hours before Daniel's arrival. I guess this really is happening!