Windy city blues

Usually, when I take a trip, there’s a stage commencing up to 48 hours beforehand during which I feel I’d give anything not to have to go.  I become focused on small tasks around the house which, if I were staying, I’d happily ignore for another few days, but which I become convinced have to be done before I go.  If Stubb and the Snork Maiden are staying behind, I become deeply concerned about such minutiae as whether they’ll have enough milk or clean socks until I get back (never mind that Stubb is just as likely to do the grocery shopping and the laundry as I am). 

I leave Thursday for Chicago, and that basic trip anxiety is providing the bassline in my mind underneath all the other songs on the station:

  • “Leavin’ on a Jet Plane [Hope I Get Where I’m Goin’]” 
  • “Try to Remember [the Phone Charger, Toothbrush, Interview Shoes, etc.]”
  • “Ain’t Nobody’s Business If I Do [Wear the Same Outfit to All My Interviews]”
  • “Don’t Be Cruel [and Ask Me Questions I’m Not Prepared For]”
  • “The Thrill is Gone”

I will be sharing a room with a writer I met at one of the summer conferences.  She’s in a different genre, though it’s possible we might be interviewing for one or more of the same jobs since two of my interviews are for open-genre positions.  We haven’t swapped all that info yet.  I am, though, looking forward to seeing her and catching up.

I’ll get to see at least one good friend that I know of, which is something to look forward to.  And I’ll probably go to the Art Institute during my free afternoon.  Other than that, I’ll try to ace the interviews and keep my feet warm.  If you’re traveling, safe travels.  If not, hope you are cozy at home!


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