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Election-ing

Pretty Cool

Liquor & Eggs

I'm laying in bed right now, feeling like shit. These allergies are killing me. I'm supposed to be working, but if I talked to any clients right now, they would probably think I was crying. One of the perks, as I promised my boss, of working for home - had I worked in an office, I would have definitely called in sick today; however, I'm going to ride it out and hopefully get a few hours of work done this afternoon after  I get my hands on some allergy medicine. 

On a more random note, my kitchen cabinets have been lacking hardcore. I haven't gone to the grocery store in a very long time because I won't be here for the next two weeks - but finally, yesterday, I had to give in. I went to the corner store - it's a liquor store with some necessities like bread, eggs, milk, etc - and picked up a few basics. When I got to the register, I realized I only had a debit card on me, and the guy only accepted cash. [That is, by the way, one of my major flaws - I NEVER carry enough cash on me.] I told the man, who spoke broken english, that I could not buy the groceries because of this reason, but he insisted that I take them anyways, and repay him when I could. He said "food is no big deal, you must eat. worry about money later." Granted, it was only 18.00 , but I was surprised to find that sort of small-town relationship/trust in the middle of such a big city, where everybody more or less is pretty jaded. It was refreshing. 

911 What is your Emergency?

So here's the thing about being a 'travelling salesman.' Or, saleswoman, I should say. You need to have a car to do the job. Last week, I was on my way to a business meeting at a hospital on the Southside. With a late afternoon appointment - 4:00 pm - I was forced to leave during rush hour. And for those of who are not aware, NOTHING about rush hour in Chicago is 'rushed.' As I am driving, I notice a funny smell. A burning smell. Coming from the dashboard - where my airconditioning is supposed to be coming out of. I think nothing of it, because if I pretend that something doesn't exist, then it doesn't. However, within a few minutes, it is hard to play that game because all of a sudden there is a white smoke POURING out of ALL of the vents. 

I'm sorry, WHAT?

Like they teach you to do in drivers ed - pull to the right. Oh wait, to my right? I'm sorry, there is a man in a jeep who is far more concerned that he move up six inches than let me into his lane. His lane? I need to get over THREE lanes. 

I roll down my windows so that in case they didn't SEE the white smoke clouding my car [sidenote: I can barely see at this point], they might be able to smell the awful burning plastic coming from my car. And, I beep.

Finally, I get over to the side of the road and call .... my dad. Not 911, because albeit the billowing smoke coming out of my car, I can NOT be having another one of those moments that only happen to me. But, apparently, I am. 

Dad, being a fire fighter, calls the nearby firehouse who sends out of a fleet of firetrucks. Because, of course, they have nothing better to do. Of course, as the firetrucks pull up they are blocking an entire lane of traffic, which does not make for happy rush-hour-ees still hoping to make it home in time to dinner. Cars are beeping their horns and shouting at each other. People like me are NOT helping them. 

The firemen take charge of my car, finding the source of the fire [an electrical fire, started by my 'blower' - the air conditioner & heater, basically.] They know my dad, so they temporarily fix it on the side of I-94 so that one of them can drive it back to the fire station. We get back there, and they work on it for about another hour - I've clearly missed my meeting at this point - and tell me that its okay to drive around, as long as I don't turn on the air conditioning. Or the heat. And the music. Okay, no problem. I'll drive around in a box with a motor, totally fine. But they do send me on my way with one caveat: that I should probably get it checked out by a professional.... and that I send them some coffeecake.