Last Saturday I plunked myself down across from a girl and her gay husband who seemed harmless enough. Then she opened her mouth. She was LOUD. And she expelled more words than she inhaled oxygen. I don't know how people do that. "Yip, yip, yip." Her poor companion was politely saying "Uh huh. Yeah," while checking out his hangnails. She was discussing potential romantic targets. Should this woman sound familiar to any young gentleman he must pack his bags and leave town immediately. Don't say I didn't warn you.
I was somewhat relieved when another flock of grad students sat next to me. Their conversation revolved around where the other economists were from, whether they were cool and who liked to party.
Later on, I was waiting at 900 N. Michigan when some tourists got tangled in the potted plants surrounding the seating area. They scared me out of my wits. Apparently the plant path was a "shortcut". Whatever. My knitting grew quite a bit that day and thankfully did not get precipitously tighter. Until the next time I take my knitting about town.
(I do not know who the chicks in the picture are, but they could have easily been the very same misses that got stuck in the decorative foilage. The other pic is of one of my haunts at 900 N. Mich.)
1 comment:
It seems like everytime I knit on the #6 somebody decides they must talk to me about my knitting. How I learned to knit, what I'm currently knitting, how their grandmother/great aunt/evil stepmother used to knit dishcloths, etc. Sometimes, I don't want to be an ambassador for knitting, I just want to knit and be left alone.
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