“That’s Chicago for ya,” my uncle said, as I hugged him in the mattress department of Macys in downtown Chicago. I had just told him I got offered a job at the Illinois Housing Department Authority in the communications department. They called me about twenty minutes after I left the interview.
It’s an awesome job, and the building is located right on Michigan Avenue, between the river and the Trib.
“That’s like working at the Rockefeller Centre,” Quin told me.
Fast-paced and sharp I had to be all weekend, amid a sea of changes in every aspect of my life.
“It’s okay to cry on the train, I do it all the time,” my friend Nina said to me. I stayed with Nina on Saturday night. We met two years ago in Krakow when she couchsurfed with me. “Now we get to be real friends!” she said. Ah, traveling friends. The undying bond.
I couldn’t eat much all weekend, from booze Saturday to anxiety constantly and nerves and excitement and maybe a new apartment. As fast-pace as my new job came about, I’ve had to try to figure out my apartment situation just as quickly. I found one that I love and applied for it, but was turned down for having not bad credit, but no credit. And they won’t take an out-of-state co-signer. I frantically beseech John and Sophie W. to help me.
“We’re going to have to come up with new names for you two since you’ll be around for the next two years!” John said. We all get a kick out of two Sophies being in the same room together.
So I wait, frantically, at my desk, hoping that my questionable future landlord will take them as co-signers, and reporting my news to the folks who helped me get this job.
I still can’t believe it. It’s all happening.