Trust me, I am NOT a Doctor.

As I sit here writing this- I am trying not to throw up.  This is directly connected with how I am the worst wife ever. (You will understand this connection in a second)

Last night, Mark really wanted to go to this event thrown uptown that showcased a lot of DogFishHead beers that we haven't tried yet. So, we went. My knee and ankle have both been killing me, so I was being a bit of a baby and complained that we'd have to walk all the way to the Brown line for the El, and take it 40 minutes to this random bar. But, I thought that it would be nice to go, and I wanted to be nice to Mark since he has been in a lot of pain since his surgery. So we walk there, and take the el, and my foot is killing me so I insist that for the way back we take a cab. Mark protested because he said it would hurt him to sit for the fifteen minute cab ride (which I basically snubbed).  It hurts him to sit because he had a deep cyst removed a week and a half ago from his lower back. Well, we ended up taking the cab and I felt SO bad because Mark was in a TON of pain the entire time. 

But... I am the worst person ever and wanted him to explain to me why it hurt to sit, yet it didn't hurt when the El jerks left and right. So Mark was rightfully pissed at me because he thought I was accusing him of making up his pain (which I was not intentionally). Which brings us to today...

Today is the first day that I have to "change his wound" as instructed by his doctor. This I have to do once a day for at least two weeks. So I thought, you know, no biggie, just some gauze here, hydrogen peroxide there, baddabing-baddaboom. Done. Uh... no.

For those of you who don't know me well- I am VERY squeamish. And this "wound" I was picturing in my head was like a one inch long little incision. In actuality, this wound is a three inch CAVERNOUS hole. I almost died. And by died, I mean puked. I feel like such an awful human being for thinking he had less of an intense surgical procedure. But like I said, trust me, I am not a doctor.

Explosion of Stress

Well, the title for this post is just about the biggest understatement ever for this past week and a half.


First, my husband had a minor surgery and has been incapacitated and on some nice pain pills. Thus, I have had twice the household responsibilities. I'm not complaining- I wouldn't want him to further hurt himself and/or delay his recovery. All I mean is that I have twice the cleaning and dog walking, and I'm being a poor sport about it all.


Second, my first big event at work is TOMORROW night and yesterday and today at work have been probably my two least favorite work days ever. Ever. Yes, there has been a lot of stress, like the normal kind that comes from planning any event. But... let's just say someone I work with has been incredibly horrible to work with, and everyone in the office wants to kill them. I will keep it at that to cover my butt. So today was definitely the worst day I've ever had at any work establishment. And that includes my very first job as a thirteen-year-old holiday greeter at Montgomery Mall when the Santa Clause made a pass at me. But yes, today was worse.


Third, I found out this morning (while at work dealing with the difficult individual) that an old camp friend passed away earlier in the day from essentially natural causes. Then I started to break down at my desk. Like hyperventilating break-down. I think it was the shock of another person my age dying (and someone so sweet), the horror that I heard it amidst everything going on right then in my office, and the knowledge of all the things I still needed to accomplish today that caused me to shut down. So let's just say it was a two-anxiety-pill day. I probably should have upped it to five. 


Anyway, I have had a very love-hate relationship with my life in Chicago these past two days... mostly due to stress. Hopefully I will have less on my shoulders after our event tomorrow night.

Lo Sientos

Sorry for being the worst blogger EVER! I have totally neglected my blog about moving to Chicago in my first few weeks moving to Chicago. Oops. 

However, the reason I haven't written is that I have been insanely busy with my new life. I am really starting to get used to our life here, and it is feeling homey-ish. I don't know if it will ever feel like "home." I definitely miss my family and friends, but otherwise, I am really loving Chicago. My job is really great and there's a girl in her twenties that I work really close with. Mark has been working from home until his new office is ready in a month. He isn't really loving the working-from-home thing- especially since we have little to no human interaction outside of each other here.

The location we live in is fantastic. We live a block from the Hancock building and Michigan Ave. Almost everything we need is a short walk away. Bella had a culture shock moment here when a horse and buggy walked down the street and she had a panic attack. She was probably thinking: "What-the-HELL-is-that-beast?!?!?!?!" Horse and buggies are pretty uncommon in DC suburbs.

One of the best things about living somewhere new is that Mark and I are finding all sorts of new fun bars, restaurants, and hole-in-the-wall places. My personal fave is the Redhead Piano Bar. SO much fun! You get to sing oldies with some oldies and really yummy drinks. We will be hitting up the redhead sometime soon.

We are getting used to our new apartment even though it was having a lot of problems at first. The only thing that would make living here better would be to have our loved ones here. Come visit us!

We made it!

Wow, the last few days have been hectic. Tuesday morning (if you can even call it that since we left our house at 3am) we drove to pick up our friend Jason who would drive our UHaul. On the way there, I got pulled over for completely missing a flashing red light. My bad. But the officer was nice and let me off with a warning. 

So then we go to Jason's house, he got in the UHaul, Mark got in the car with me and Bella, and off we drove for 11 hours.We got to Chicago around 2pm and got everything unloaded after about an hour. Two days later, and we are just finishing unpacking. First off, there is NO closet space. We had to go to the container store and get tons of shelving units to stash in every nook and cranny of our apartment, primarily just to hold all my clothes. What the heck am I supposed to do now? I live a block from Michigan Avenue, and have no closet or dresser space... FML.

I feel change a'comin

I am sorry I haven't written lately! Life has been exceptionally crazy dealing with the move. We have our lease secured, our place here rented out, and have arranged for our stuff to get there. Thank goodness. I also just got an iPhone, so I have been totally preoccupied with playing with my new gadget. I am so insanely excited for our move - one week from this Tuesday! One fun thing I also did was print a list of fun things to do on our 11.5 hour car ride. Most of the activities on the list are some variation of 20 questions, but I think Mark and I will find a way to make them interesting. I probably won't have a chance to post til we get there. So... adventures in Chicago to be continued...

All in a few days' work!

Wow. I have so much to update on. Where to start? ...

So Mark and I had our whirlwind few days in Chicago. All day Thursday was spent running around the city with Mark's cousin who is our Realtor, looking at apartments. To say this was a stressful day is a major understatement. First off, Chicago was dumped with two feet of snow only ten hours prior to our arrival. While that city is amazing at cleanup, there were random mountains of snow everywhere and every few blocks you got a boot full of ice. 

So anyway, after day one we were not sold on any apartment in particular. That night I had a panic attack about the move and about how we had no where to live, and essentially very few people to lean on there. After several tears on my part, a trip to Nordstrom on Michigan Ave., and a phone call to my mom, I was a little more at ease.

Friday morning Mark went to meet with his new office-mates and I had my interview at The Ritz. The job is not to work at the Ritz, just the interview was there, but I thought that was pretty cool. Apparently they have a lot of their events there. Ironically, after the interview, Mark and I found our apartment, one block away.

So... now we are closing our lease on an 11th floor teeny (for us) apartment (but we aren't used to city living). And I just accepted a job offer from the one I interviewed for on Friday!

Needless to say, we are knee-deep in paperwork of all kinds, and I am about to be crazy from all the things I need to do for our move in THREE WEEKS. It seems like we were in Chicago weeks ago when in fact we only got back 2 days ago. Weird.


p.s. I saw the mom from "Little People Big World" at O'Hare! I think it's cool.

And we're off! ... We Hope.

So we have officially picked the worst week of the year for our final/venture trip up to Chicago. Not only were they just dumped with two feet of snow, but had 75mph winds, and public schools were cancelled due to snow for the first time in TWELVE YEARS. Yeah. I am feeling really good about my future living conditions.

Originally, our flight was supposed to leave tomorrow morning from BWI at 9:30am, but for some reason that flight was cancelled and we were put on an earlier flight. I am completely confused at the logic there. Mark was the one who spoke with the person at the airline and they said it was because our original flight was coming in from Chi. Uhh... why would they cancel flights leaving Chi, but not ones coming into it earlier in the morning? Maybe there is some secret airport code to this, but I am not following, and not thrilled that I have a 4am wake-up.

Anyone who knows me will also know that not only am I an anxiety-ridden lunatic, but my one particular phobia is flying. I hate, hate, hate, hate, HATE flying. To me, stepping onto an airplane is the equivalent of the olden days when pirates tied people's hands with chains and told them to "walk the plank." I feel as though I am looking death in the face when I am getting on a plane. So far (aka in my life) the only short-term cure to this is to combine anxiety meds and alcohol... which is definitely not medically recommended. But you know what? I don't really care if I am the drugged up alchie because otherwise I would be the person crying and gasping and gripping the chair the entire flight. Unfortunately, my flight is so early tomorrow, I don't think I will be able to find booze at the airport. Is it ok to BYOB as long as it comes in 3oz bottles?