I don't know if one day counts as a roll. I guess if I ever publish this- two days could be a roll. It's very difficult to get these things done with the constant annoying interruptions of my, you know, job.
So I walk to work. This is a very nice perk of living where I do. Although ask me if I still think so in two months, because the public transit alternatives are not that attractive. And it's gonna get COLD.
But I maybe won't even notice, since I am a fast walker. I mean, like, really quick. I should probably look into speed walking as a competitive sport.
I think my speed is hereditary. I mean, do you guys remember trying to keep up with mom in NorthPark? You had to move fast, or risk getting dragged by your leash. Or perhaps that was just me.
In addition to my natural skills, I am also typically motivated to move quickly by the fact that I'm running 3-5 minutes late. More than 10, and I take a cab, between 5 and 10, and I sort of resign myself to getting in a couple of minutes late. But 3-5 minutes is the "money" window, wherein I can still get to work on time if I make tracks.
I like to leave between 8 and 805, because then I know I will easily make it on time, without hurrying, regardless of how I catch the walk lights, and I pretty much always have time to grab my coffee on the way into the building. In typical corporate efficiency, if I'm cutting it close, I have to go up to my desk, hang up my coat and turn on my computer to show I'm here, and then go back downstairs to get my coffee. So just to recap: I can be two minutes late because I stopped for my coffee, or I can be on time, and then lose ten minutes on a coffee run. Which is preferred by my company? Choice two. We are all about efficiency over here. Just like the government. But that's another discussion.
But, seeing as how it's me, it's a race to work probably 2 mornings a week. It is on these days that I notice the generally lathargic pace of other Chicagoans. Everyone moves so slowly! As if they have nowhere to BE! I bob and weave dexterously through the crowds, shooting disapproving glances at my tortoise-paced conteporaries as I go. People have no doubt that I am busy and important. Or, you know, late. As evidenced by my untucked shirttail, twisted skirt and the sweat dripping off my brow. Details...
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I don't know if one day counts as a roll. I guess if I ever publish this- two days could be a roll. It's very difficult to get these things done with the constant annoying interruptions of my, you know, job.
So I walk to work. This is a very nice perk of living where I do. Although ask me if I still think so in two months, because the public transit alternatives are not that attractive. And it's gonna get COLD.
But I maybe won't even notice, since I am a fast walker. I mean, like, really quick. I should probably look into speed walking as a competitive sport.
I think my speed is hereditary. I mean, do you guys remember trying to keep up with mom in NorthPark? You had to move fast, or risk getting dragged by your leash. Or perhaps that was just me.
In addition to my natural skills, I am also typically motivated to move quickly by the fact that I'm running 3-5 minutes late. More than 10, and I take a cab, between 5 and 10, and I sort of resign myself to getting in a couple of minutes late. But 3-5 minutes is the "money" window, wherein I can still get to work on time if I make tracks.
I like to leave between 8 and 805, because then I know I will easily make it on time, without hurrying, regardless of how I catch the walk lights, and I pretty much always have time to grab my coffee on the way into the building. In typical corporate efficiency, if I'm cutting it close, I have to go up to my desk, hang up my coat and turn on my computer to show I'm here, and then go back downstairs to get my coffee. So just to recap: I can be two minutes late because I stopped for my coffee, or I can be on time, and then lose ten minutes on a coffee run. Which is preferred by my company? Choice two. We are all about efficiency over here. Just like the government. But that's another discussion.
But, seeing as how it's me, it's a race to work probably 2 mornings a week. It is on these days that I notice the generally lathargic pace of other Chicagoans. Everyone moves so slowly! As if they have nowhere to BE! I bob and weave dexterously through the crowds, shooting disapproving glances at my tortoise-paced conteporaries as I go. People have no doubt that I am busy and important. Or, you know, late. As evidenced by my untucked shirttail, twisted skirt and the sweat dripping off my brow. Details...
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