a story of two sweaters

Hell isn't a sauna. Chicago is. My lovely Chicago spring has turned into sweltering sweaty heat. I never feel dry. I do, however, feel damp, sticky, frizzy, etc. Who in their right mind lives here?

No, I am not in my right mind. Never have been, never will be. And now: the story.

Last Friday I woke up to rain. Rain and cold-ish-ness. I got myself showered and dressed (an admirable accomplishment, I thought) and out the door to have lunch with an MFA friend. We were meeting about a 10 minute walk from my apartment, so I braved the rain wearing a long-sleeved sweater, pashmina, light jacket, and shoes with enough heel to help me avoid completely soaking my pant legs.

Lunch was a success--damp, but a success. The dampness was acceptable, since it was pouring all sorts of beasts (really what it was pouring was tree limbs, etc.). I then missed my bus, waited 40 minutes for the next one (delays due to flooding and tree limbs), and eventually arrived in Evanston for a stop-over at the library. All this time wearing a now-very-damp long-sleeved sweater.

When I left the library two hours later, the sun had come out, full force. The rain had stolen my spring and left the beginning of summer-hell in its place. And I was wearing a long-sleeved sweater. If I had just planned on going home, I would have braved the heat and the sweater, but I wasn't going home. I was meeting Sarah & co. at Nevins for drinks (just Diet Coke for me, I promise) and dinner. It's one of my favorite parts of the week, if not my favorite and I wasn't going to miss it, even though I was a sodden sweaty frizzy mess.

So on my way to the bar, I stopped at the Gap. Grabbed everything my size on the sale rack, tried everything on, and found a short sleeved sweater that I thought could work (I actually quite like it). Did I mention I was wearing a cami? I was wearing a cami. I paid for the short-sleeved sweater, ran across the street to CVS to buy a comb and some cheap headbands, and then ran across the street again to Barnes & Noble to change (you can always count on B&N and Borders to have a bathroom). I smoothed myself out, put on the sweater, put up my hair, and headed back out into the heat for my weekly round of Diet Coke.

The end.