Yes, we definitely moved a lot while in Chicago but as you read the previous entries you can see there were legitimate reasons each time.  As I stated in the 640 West Wavelend entry, the owner was selling right around the time we were getting married and we moved to avoid having to worry about finding a place to love as soon as we came back from our honeymoon.

Another deadline this week so today’s blog will just be short observations compiled in the past week.

You know you’re in for a breath-holding experience when, on your way to do your business at the work bathroom, you are bombarded with a Wall of Stink prior to even getting to the bathroom door.  It’s a white collar version of a dead (or slowly dying) canary in a coal mine.  Don’t breathe the air or suffer the consequences.

While Megan and I loved the year that we lived in the New York building, we got a chance to move to a place that was much larger and was considerably less money across the street on Waveland Avenue.  Since we were still in the “not making jack squat” salary phase of our lives, this was a no-brainer.  The condo belonged to a cousin of Megan’s friend who had moved in to a house when she got married but wasn’t ready to sell yet.

NOTE – While this blog is for public consumption, it also it a recording of history for me and the next few days will be about my places of residence in Chicago.  I hope you enjoy the reminiscing but this is being written for my own edification before the sands of time ravish my already depleted brain.

A conversation I was having yesterday mornin ...

Criminy.  Far be it from me to quote the line the secretary made in Office Space but “Someone’s got a case of the Mondays.”  The group I work with has their own coffee maker in order to avoid the swill that is served in the main lunchroom.  I’m usually the first one in so I tend to be the one making the first pot of coffee.  Normally I am as sure handed as Clint Eastwood was with his gun hand in his westerns.  Not today.  I picked up the filter but then I acquired Temporary Palsy and y ...

Google can be a friend sometimes although it can also be a harsh dispenser of truth.  At work yesterday I was describing a candy someone had at work as tasting like “a stale Hostess Snowball with the ‘fauxconuts’ shaved off”.  While I love most Hostess products, there isn’t much natural about any of their offerings.  The infamous Snowball is a perfect example of that.  The “coconut” topping, even if it is real, is caked with lots o’ unrealness.