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Literally as I was writing this post a lovely comment showed up from the curator of the Art Institute Museum's "Altered and Adorned" exhibit, which I posted the placard from yesterday. You can find the comment here, including an offer of a tour if any Chicago locals act quickly, and a blog post about the exhibit here, including THE DISCOVERY OF ADAM'S MISSING LUNGS. I loled. I mean I'm thrilled, but it's still pretty funny.

I also spent some time this morning applying for a job at the museum, and I'm not sure how to vocalise the awesomeness of that properly. I'll keep everyone posted.

If I'm lucky, I get to leave work at two today, which would be nice. I'm going to buy groceries and trousers, run down to the library for a book (a specific book, I'm not just randomly in need of books), catch the blue line up to the new Chrome store out in Wicker Park, and have dinner at Lillie's Q, which I'm told is the best barbecue in Chicago.

The best barbecue in Chicago is a hotly debated topic considering nobody in Chicago actually cares about barbecue.

Anyway, all that frees up tomorrow for me to go see if St. John Cantius actually wants to share any of the art it keeps boasting about; given how proud they are of their collection, they sure are cagey on the website about where it is and how one goes about coming to see it.

And then there shall be an orgy of cleaning. My place is actually pretty tidy but badly in need of some Roomba love, and the bathroom still has some strange artifacts left over from the retiling.

I keep thinking maybe I'm having some kind of manic phase, but it's probably just my Vitamin D levels evening out now that I'm taking a jillion units of it a day.

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This is like...Stephen King weather. What the hell?

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Well, that was a thwarted afternoon.

I did not get a book or trousers or barbecue. I did get rubber cement and headphones. Blick sells both things, though the headphones are somewhat novelty. Still, for ten bucks, I now have earbuds that look like tiny salmon maki, which is pretty cool.

The Harold Washington Library never has the books I want, even though it always says it does. It's like a goblin went through the library and removed all the books it knew I would want, without telling anyone. And I didn't get trousers because I have NO TIME for someone who wants to sell me skinny jeans. Also I have either uncovered fashion's ultimate insanity OR the salesman has the worst patter ever, but I decided it was time to leave the store when he tried to sell me "wide leg skinny jeans".

Actually my afternoon was filled with skinny jeans, because after that fiasco I went to Wicker Park, one of the neighborhoods of Chicago, which I am not cool enough to walk around in. I saw more sockless boat shoes and skinny jeans and tattoos in one block of Wicker Park than I've seen in the rest of Chicago all year.

I didn't go to Lillie's Q. I walked past it and decided I didn't want barbecue, and I especially didn't want barbecue from somewhere I'd have to sit in a high cafe chair in a window to eat it.

By the way, as long as we're talking about how I got back on the train to go home, fuck the Blue Line, it's full of assholes. If you ride the Blue Line, I apologise, but surely you're aware you're surrounded by assholes, right? My god, I will never take the Red Line for granted again. Or live on the Blue Line.

So now I'm home, and I'm feeling thwarted, and I'm not going out again and you can't make me.

THIS WAS NOT AN ADVENTUR. IT WAS A TRAGEDIE.