the ocean

The return to reality after our week at Disney has been a bit jarring. The flight back did not help. We were delayed, and the Orlando airport has some serious third world vibes to it. There were fracases galore as they boarded our giant, international-sized flight full of people desperate to get the hell out of Florida. And I swear to God someone in the row ahead of us was watching and rewatching Maid in Manhattan. Well played, Satan.

When we got back, it was like 17 degrees out. I worry that you're going to read this and think I just mean that it was very cold, but in Chicago 17 degrees is an actual thing we experience. Or even -17 degrees, thanks to the Polar Vortex. That's where your face starts stinging just because you've stepped outside. And not because of the Botox, for once.

I also had to dive right into a week of rehearsals and shows for my amateur theatrical for lawyers. If I didn't put on wigs and deliver pun-based humor, who would? It was, of course, a fine time with friends, but also a terrifying hellscape of sleep deprivation. Plus I caught some kind of something, so I was sucking down Alka Seltzer Cold & Flu like my life depended on it, which perhaps it did.

And then there's the little thing we call work. I'm lucky to have a great job where I work with intelligent, non-toxic people, but it does still require the doing of some things. I'll admit I copped out and worked from home on a few of the painful face days, but otherwise I've been diligently getting sneezed on on the el and heading to the land of double monitors and copy machines. I even assembled some binders, so you know I'm serious.

Anyway, it's January. It's supposed to be awful. I have high hopes for late March, though.