The Life Spazmatic

“Let’s meet for lunch at Potbelly,” my friend Nora emailed yesterday. “Corner of Wacker and Randolph, noon.”

High noon come and gone, I stood on the sidewalk stupidly, bemoaning Nora’s broken cell phone. Pangs of hunger growing too sharp, I went inside to order food. “A sandwich, please, and can I get a milkshake?” “We don’t have any here,” the girl ringing me up answered. “Oh…” I trailed off, “nevermind.”

I’d just realized I was in Corner Bakery, not Potbelly’s. Across the street, Nora waited for me to sheepishly explain how I hadn't noticed I was in the wrong place.

This is entirely indicative of my current state. Running on too little sleep and too much anxiety, I plan on taking a nap sometime during the weekend of the 17^th.

‘Till then, I’m too busy.