Yesterday I went to do laundry and someone’s clothes were still in the washer and dryer. I moved everything out of the way, started my laundry, went back up and realized, “I live in the Midwest now, so I don’t have to be an asshole. I could actually knock on my neighbor’s door and make sure he didn’t forget all about his laundry.” It also helped that only one other guy besides M. lives here, so having glimpsed the clothes, I already knew which door to knock on.

So I went down to the basement and knocked on the entirely wrong door, generating in the process lots of weird squeaky noises which occasionally emanate from the water heater. My neighbor scared the bejeezus out of me by returning to get his laundry while my ear was pressed against the door trying to figure out if the squeaks meant someone was coming.

It turns out that the noises, which sound like a bird trapped deep within in the water heater, are actually the sounds of his roommate’s bird trapped in her bedroom and wanting conversation. I had been wondering about this for some time.

It also turns out that my neighbor, Greg, is a web designer. He is also a DJ, which I knew because his mailbox says “DJ Greg Haus,” so I figured I should check out his web work too. Man, what a jackpot!! His sites make me want to start wearing a yellow feathered cape and calling myself Zazoo! And dye my hair with leopard spots! And not tape my nipples with duct tape!

Did you think Chicago was a pale and cheerless place in the winter? Wrong! How could it be, when the club down the street offers $2 Chocolate Pussy Martinis every single Wednesday? 

¶ 10:22 PM