This morning was an air dry the hair and put on the glasses kind of morning. I rarely RARELY (did I mention rarely?) have something going on every night of week, and this morning I felt physical pain opening my eyes when the alarm went off.
I was out of town last weekend, and will be shoving off again tonight. My apartment is such a disaster that a family of orangutans have taken up residence. I know this because I got about a foot away from my pantry curtain this morning when a hairy arm sprung out and handed me the Cheerios. And I’m plum out of bananas. Obvious conclusion, no?
Last night was well worth any added grogginess. If you live in Chicago RUN, don’t walk to the next performance of the improv group Schadenfruede. And pay particular attention to Justin Kaufman, someone who has talent oozing from his pores (among other stuff maybe but I don’t know him that well). He’s also someone I had the pleasure of greeting every morning when I was a receptionist at WBEZ. Justin, it was the way I answered the phone that made me so special, right? A friend and I went to Schadenfruede’s Rent Party—nothing whatsoever to do with that brutal musical—where we drank $1.50 beers and were blown away by such performances as a Karate Kid-inspired Rock Opera. Beyond funny.