Quite a day. I was driving downtown when I got rear-ended at a very low speed on I-94 (insert obligatory anal sex joke here). I looked in my rearview mirror and made what I hoped would be interpreted as the universal sign for "Don't worry about it; that's what bumpers are for," and sped on.

Then I was at a teachers' job fair and wasn't even out of the elevator before someone asked me to come in for an interview. I should probably be suspicious of any school whose assistant principal wants to interview me without even knowing my name. I signed up for an interview anyway. On the way out of the fair I ran into an old friend from Lawrence. I think that sort of thing happens a lot in Chicago.

Tonight Margaret and I went on a walk around the neighborhood. I heard Trans Am twice, in Reckless and Leo's. Other than that outing, we've pretty much given ourselves over to naps and DVD marathons of "Family Guy" and "Sex & The City." There's no way I'd rather spend my last week of unemployment.

Oh, and I applied for a job with Pitchfork.

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