This past Sunday I was going to write a post about how,
technically, as of that morning it had been an official week of
semi-independence, and a not terrible one at that. But the whirlwind of life
and trying to scrape money from out of nowhere consumed most of my time. And,
also, dealing with the aftereffects of being magnificently pickpocketed
this week. (More
on that later)
I can’t remember what happened which days. I’m referring to
texts and emails – of which there are dozens – to try to piece together some
kind of timeline. But here are the
notable happenings of my first week sans my parents.
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On the goodbye Sunday, after parting from my family at Panera Bread, I was collected by the roomie
and her family, and dragged along on hours – hours – of shopping for her
belongings. It’s always interesting to see how other families operate, and, no
matter how nice the other people might be - it pretty much never fails to make
me grateful for my family.
After much shopping, we went to Roomie’s parents’ airbnb and
I applied for jobs on their wifi before becoming entirely distracted by the
Olympics. I don’t understand how I – the least sporty person on earth – turn
out to be the one who is most invested in the Olympics in every group I’m part
of. I want to hear every word the commentators say. I want to see every
competitor, even the ones that have no hope of winning. Next time around, I
swear I will have good, consistent Olympics access.
On Monday, I gave the roomie’s family a proper introduction
to IKEA. I feel like I was born going to IKEA, so taking first timers was a
decidedly bizarre experience. The roomie and her mom had actually visited the
store once before – but not properly. They’d tried to run in and out for one
thing, not knowing that that’s just not how you do IKEA. When they saw a bed
they liked in the showroom, Roomie’s dad asked, tiredly, “Do we need to find
someone to come help us take this out of here?” Not knowing that the nice flat-packed
version was helpfully downstairs. On the drive home, when the various articles
we’d purchased were being listed, he kept saying, “Wait. We got a bed AND a
couch AND a bookcase back there?”
We ate lunch at Souplantation (which isn’t called that anymore,
but I don’t remember what it is called) and I was sort of delighted to find
that their menu hasn’t changed since I was six years old. The same corn bread
and soft serve ice cream in those swirly bowls! In a world of change it is nice
to have a constant.
In the afternoon I visited an adorable vegan-friendly
café/coffee shop called Atomix. The kindly barista was the sort of guy who
always looks happy but slightly startled, and stares right into your eyes for a
second before responding. I kept wondering if I was saying or doing something
abnormal, and it was surprising him – but I think that’s just how that guy was.
I applied for a job at a vegan restaurant and immediately
got a call about it, which reeked of desperation, but was extremely exciting.
Tuesday was applying for a million more jobs, and
downloading an NBC app so I could watch 30 minutes of free gymnastics at a
coffee shop. Simone Biles, guys.
Wednesday was a day
of drudgery. I sat with the roomie at an
uber hipster tea and Indian food place in Wicker Park, applying for jobs. I
left to get the electricity turned on, rode a bus for 40 minutes to the wrong
place, got hot and hungry and decided to have consolation Chipotle. I printed
resumes at FedEx. It was all pretty boring.
On Thursday, during a visit to the West Loop area, I noticed
that a positive thing about my neighborhood is that it doesn’t smell like pee.
Because, nice as it is, some of West Loop smells like pee. I did more boring
grown-up stuff before heading off to a very nerve-wracking interview for a job
as a chocolate tour guide. (More on this later.)
Friday I got very, very rained on. Wet socks, wet shoes, wet
pants. After going home and getting less wet, I had another nerve-wracking
interview at the vegan restaurant. (Again, more on this later.) On my bus ride
home, the manager called and offered me the job. With great joy, I emailed an artisanal cheese
peddler from Craigslist that wanted me to interview with him (work would have
started at 3-4 am on Saturday mornings) and told him that I was previously
engaged. I took my first proper bath in an exhaustively scrubbed tub.
On Saturday we used the oven for the first time.
Sunday was the day of the “See Train” debacle, so I got
dumped off in the West Loop, missed my church service, and consoled myself by
buying a breakfast of Spicy Buffalo Tofu Strips at Whole Foods (on the way in to whole foods I walked past
the most gorgeous black man I’ve ever laid eyes on, by the way - he was wearing
SUSPENDERS and still looked good) and eating/tearing them in a way that must
have been very unattractive, if not frightening. (But the gorgeous black man
was not there to see me, so I didn’t care.)
