Foreigners on Friday.

Oh baby. We’ve got some non-Chicagoans on this train.
“Where’s the exit for Union Station?”
“Just Google it. Literally, just Google it. It’ll tell you.”
Man stands up and gives one of the women his seat, she says, “Oh, I’m fine.”
Then sits down. “He probably thinks I’m pregnant.”

Then they talk loudly on a train where it’s evident that this is not the status quo.

No, they aren’t from here.

It makes me feel like I’ve morphed into Chicagoan culture pretty well.

In other news, it’s Friday. I wish I wasn’t always so happy when Friday arrives. I don’t want to live for the weekends, but there’s something fabulous about Fridays. Everyone is just a little bit happier.

Oh, gosh, these women did not get the do-not-yell-and-cackle-loudly-on-the-L-memo.

Today I’m thankful that mornings begin a new day and that sleep offers a hard reset. I’m thankful that I can leave crabby and tired in the previous day and start the next one with newness.

I’m also thankful that it’s been so beautiful all week. It’s basically been a sunny with a high of 75 week, which I can hardly complain about.

It’s payday. Can I get an amen?

Happy Friday, folks.


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