The Walk (but not the walk of shame)

OK, walk details now.

I walked straight down Sheridan a couple of miles and it was great fun. This is a colorful Chicago neighborhood, punctuated by stores like the "Ennui" coffeehouse, "Armadillo's Pillow" used book store (*makes mental note to return there with more money someday*) and "Evil Squirrel Comics."

I saw a "Don't Walk" hand that was so old it had burned thin the black field surrounding it and now shone a red hand surrounded by eerie fiery flames.

I saw a woman reach into a plastic bag and throw crumbs to a shining, writhing swarm of pigeons so densely packed that some were actually staggering over the backs of others to get to the plastic-bag-lady. It was like something out of a Steven King novel. A chill ran up my spine as I turned the corner and read the large sign informing me that a municipal ordinance demands that we not feed the pigeons.

I considered having my eyebrows waxed for $5 but chickened out. I thought about seeing a movie alone (mostly to prove to Caspian that I'm not a degenerate life form) but decided not to patronize a movie theater that opened its doors exactly 5 minutes before each show and then locked them again.

I indulged in a Jimmy John's sub (two thumbs up) and purchased a shot of espresso disguised as a soy iced caramel macchiato, thus commencing the quest to keep myself hyped up enough to drive home later tonight.

And now I am home at Penelope's , happy to settle into a book and await her return. Just as soon as I finish this episode of Gilmore Girls. *sighs happily*