Practicalmadness

Clearly I am being punished by the gods, as the smell of coffee at Whole Foods is making me want to hurl. I appear to be coming down with something, some mysterious new ailment that not even mighty Halls Mentho-Lyptus Drops(!!!) can cure.

I blame the time I spent walking around in the cold in Wicker Park last Monday night doing some apartment scoping. From that experience I learned two things:

• I really should take a look at the weather forecast for the evening before I plan my schoolday attire at frickin' noon, so I can know if the Kenneth Cole sportcoat that is entirely useful and appropriate at noon will get me killed at quarter of seven.

• Wicker Park is a hipster-ridden hellhole, and I really don't need to pay that much to live in a neighborhood just so I can walk to Myopic Books.

• Except that I do, I just can't afford it.

So this week Wicker Park has given me the killer death flu, scared Lucy and overcharged me for beer. This confirms my belief that there is nothing good to be found on the Blue Line.