The Pooped Post

I'm all tuckered out. The one reason to come to Chicago today is because days really do end here:














I went to Frankie's concert. I swear one of the pieces was just a G-major scale. Why? I have no clue. I listened to them diligently sawing away at the instruments for 45 minutes while nearly falling asleep.

Was assaulted by a drunken lady next to the green line on the way. I was waiting for the bus to go back to campus from tutoring Darrius, and a lady walks up to me and starts poking me in the cheek, and making some pretty mean comments. WELL, what am I going to do about it. This makes it the second time I've directly had a sort of unusual experience with public transportation here, but definitely the most enjoyable part has been listening to people giving speeches on buses and the El.

I haven't made a list in a while.

WHAT ADRIANNE WOULD LIKE TO HAPPEN RIGHT NOW:
1. Jump ahead to after finals week but before going home, at the point where I will have finished all my finals and papers and I can just hang out here
2. Decide what dinner to make for Sunday
3. Somehow absorb all the Weber reading I should do for tomorrow
4. Have Pam come over to tell me the Spanish homework
5. Become automatically fluent in hieroglyphs
6. Be able to photosynthesize instead of using the bathroom or eating. Except I'd probably starve during the night
7. Take Spencer on a walk
8. Basically, go back to June-July in Spain

That's enough, Adrianne. Don't get carried away.