I'm eleven days away from my next vacation. WHOO HOO!!!!!! Chicago, here I come. You may be thinking, my fictional friend, that Chicago in late winter/early spring may not be the place to go, but really, you couldn't be further off-base. Three words for you:
Saint. Patrick's. Day.
They dye their river green. Green!! In my opinion, the only place better to visit on St. Patrick's Day would be Boston. But I've been to Boston and while I loved it, this is going to be a fun, new place. I'm going to the Art Institute and the Field Museum, I'm going to eat Chicago deep-dish pizza and huge hot dogs. The diet is going to Bermuda for its vacation. We'll meet up again when we both get home.
Unless, of course, the diet meets some extremely hot islander and moves there permanently. Hey, it could happen. Even diets can get frisky.
In the meantime, I have seven more days of work. Eleven days total. One more doggie obedience class. A boatload of yard work. Yoga classes to sign up for and actually--ugh--attend. I need to start packing, so I have a rough idea what I can and can't take. And I need to buy a city map. And figure out the "el" trains.
No problem. Right?