the_rck

We’re in Chicago. I feel pretty generally terrible at the moment, partly from a headache that came on at about the Indiana border (I had naproxen in my purse, but my migraine medication was packed, and I didn’t dare take an Ativan because I wasn’t absolutely sure I hadn’t taken one this morning. I’m 60-70% sure, but I didn’t want to risk it) and partly because we had dinner very, very late. I’m not sure I’m going to sleep at all well because of the eating late. It was 7:55 Central time which is an hour past my normal deadline due to the time difference.

We had lunch with my parents and my brother and his girlfriend. I was really pleased to meet her. She seems really nice and enjoys the things my brother does— watching baseball, bike riding, ferrets. She’s a psychologist. She asked if I’ve read anything by Nisi Shawl, who is her cousin, and I had to admit that I haven’t. I should, but I haven’t.

My brother and step-father were both thrilled to hear that Cordelia is thinking about social work. My step-father pointed out that the University of Michigan is internationally known as a school for social work (at the masters level and higher). He also said that she shouldn’t believe people who tell her that social workers only do one specific thing because there are a lot of different specialties. He and my brother did admit, though, that the bit about not getting paid very much is true.

We got to the hotel around 6:00, local time. We’d had an interesting time because Scott decided to let Google route him on what it considered the current shortest way given traffic conditions and construction, but that led to difficulties in terms of needing to change lanes at awkward times and without much notice. The voice would tell us to take a particular route without telling us if it was on the right or the left, and with, four lanes going the same way, that makes a huge difference.

I’m dithering about whether or not I can go downtown to join Scott and Cordelia at dinner time tomorrow. It will mean managing a bunch of scary things entirely on my own. They would really like it if I do, and I think the food might well be better than a bowl of microwaved Progresso soup, but I’d have to figure out where and how to buy a CTA pass. The website uses enough jargon that I’m pretty sure I’d be confused even without the lingering headache.

Of course, if I don’t go into town, I’m going to have to venture out anyway to get a hack in for Ingress. The nearest portals are not easy to get to, so I’d have to wander a bit and hope to find something that I just can’t see from here. As far as I can tell, though, all of the El stations are portals. I suppose I should have expected that.

I made my Camp NaNo goal, mostly. I had 9804 words of new fiction this month, and I decided that I would just take a chunk of my journal writing to fill things out. It’s writing. I did it this month. I figured Scott and Cordelia wouldn’t be thrilled by me sitting up with my laptop, trying to come up with another two hundred words.

Of course, at this point, they’ve gone out in search of a grocery store that’s still open. Scott and I both forgot his distilled water, so he can’t do his sinus wash or (more important) run his bi-PAP.

The hotel is reasonably nice. I asked for no down pillows because Scott’s allergic, and they gave us a 'guaranteed feather free room.' They apparently use down pillows in most rooms but have a few rooms designated for people with down/feather allergies. They run a shuttle to the nearest El station once every half an hour. I didn’t ask how late in the day they continue that or how early they start. I should have. The desk staff were very friendly and polite.

Okay, time to brush my teeth. I might as well get my time at the sink while there’s no competition.