Mondays

I had the kind of gluttonous dinner tonight that leaves you with a bloated, but happily sated, feeling. I went with friends to McCormick & Schmick’s on Wacker, where we treated the menu like an adversary that had to be conquered. We went “300” on the menu, and emerged victorious.

Grilled swordfish on a bed of sweet potato hash. Clam chowder. A sundae and coffee for dessert. Magnificent. 

On my way back to the parking garage, I felt as though I’d started the week in the best way possible. Mondays don’t have to suck, I thought. Not if you do them right.

I took the garage elevator up to the sixth floor. My car was the only one still there (the garage is at Adams and Wabash, an area of the Loop that totally rolls up after sundown). As I approached the car, I noticed something odd by the driver’s window; it was my side view mirror, dangling from wires. Someone had clipped my car on the way in or out of his space, taking the side view mirror with it. I ran to the car, and checked the windshield wipers for a note that should’ve read, “Sorry about your car. Here’s my number-call me in the morning. I’ll take care of my horrible mistake.” There was no note. I was left to deal with the damage some jackass brought upon my car and didn’t have the stones to own up to.

There’s a tangent I could go on about how we live in an age of zero accountability, a society where deflection, obfuscation, and outright hypocritical behavior drive the masses (speaking to the latter, how about that Eliot Spitzer?), but I won’t.

I tried to drive home on the Kennedy, but as the wind made the mirror bounce, I had to roll down my window and secure it with my hand. The wind was brutally cold on my hand as I was traveling 60 miles an hour, so much so that it forced me off the expressway. I turned off at Kimball and went to a CVS for (you were waiting for this)…duct tape.

Using the duct tape, I secured the mirror to the door in a pattern that resembled a shiny grey version of the logo on the Flash’s costume and drove home.

Mondays don’t have to suck, but sometimes they do.

Advertisements
%d bloggers like this: