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I'm still not sure if I believe in god, but my life has been filled with a series of small miracles lately that have lead me to be quite thankful to... well... who or whatever is responsible for them.
Miracle 1. My brother wandered off into the woods to experiment with peyote and was not eaten by a bear or led off a cliff into the unforgiving sea by a talking dog.
Miracle 2. I found the same exact brown leather briefcase/messenger bag for sale as the worn out one I've been lugging around for the past two years. Filene's Basement, 60 dollars.
Miracle 3. Despite entrusting the supposed competence of EVERY APARTMENT RENTAL AGENCY in the city of Chicago, I managed to find (all on my own) the perfect two storey, brick coach house only four blocks from the Damen Blue Line station (or as I like to refer to it, the epicentre of hip).
P.S. It was built a year before the Chicago fire (1871) and survived, and has been through a gut rehab on the inside last year with brand new appliances windows and bathrooms.
Miracle 4. The weather lately has been fucking amazing. I hate to sound self centred but this is what I call a perfect day. 65-70 °F, not a cloud in the sky, and minimal humidity. It's been like this for about a week now, and usually around this time of the year it's 80, humid, and hellish.
Miracle 5. I tried to introduce my mom to the idea of Chicago public transport, of which she was initially quite apprehensive. Much to my surprise, there were no crazy people on board, the train was not crowded in the least, and didn't smell of urine, death, or discarded chicken bones as it usually does.
Praise be to Jesus, for that last one especially.
Miracle 1. My brother wandered off into the woods to experiment with peyote and was not eaten by a bear or led off a cliff into the unforgiving sea by a talking dog.
Miracle 2. I found the same exact brown leather briefcase/messenger bag for sale as the worn out one I've been lugging around for the past two years. Filene's Basement, 60 dollars.
Miracle 3. Despite entrusting the supposed competence of EVERY APARTMENT RENTAL AGENCY in the city of Chicago, I managed to find (all on my own) the perfect two storey, brick coach house only four blocks from the Damen Blue Line station (or as I like to refer to it, the epicentre of hip).
P.S. It was built a year before the Chicago fire (1871) and survived, and has been through a gut rehab on the inside last year with brand new appliances windows and bathrooms.
Miracle 4. The weather lately has been fucking amazing. I hate to sound self centred but this is what I call a perfect day. 65-70 °F, not a cloud in the sky, and minimal humidity. It's been like this for about a week now, and usually around this time of the year it's 80, humid, and hellish.
Miracle 5. I tried to introduce my mom to the idea of Chicago public transport, of which she was initially quite apprehensive. Much to my surprise, there were no crazy people on board, the train was not crowded in the least, and didn't smell of urine, death, or discarded chicken bones as it usually does.
Praise be to Jesus, for that last one especially.