I can feel the bloodflow...

Today was just one of those days. The busy, good, adventurous sort. My left-hand fingers hurt but my brain is very happy. At lunch I accomplished things like switching my main utilities over (I still need to deal with the internet), and ogling Andrew Bird from three feet away before moseying on over to the side of the stage and getting politely shooed away by security. I also almost left a measuring cup for him on stage, because I inexplicably had one, but I didn't get the courage up to do it until after I'd been shoo'd, and I figured walking back into the forbidden area in front of the stage would be kind of frowned upon.

If anything in the world is more of a buzz kill than my office, I don't ever want to encounter it. After hanging out in Millennium Park watching Andrew Bird noodle around and warm up, I was all happy and springy and humming and thought "Oh good, people at work will see me happy for once, and maybe I'll get to spread the good word that I am in fact a human being Andrew Bird is awesome." But as soon as I was in the door, my humming felt forced and there was really no point in smiling to myself. (I hate my office. Sigh.)

But! I did get out early to go to my mandolin lessons! And boy, what an eclectic little group my class is. We're about evenly half girls and guys, and we're all there for different reasons (I didn't try to explain why I was there. I'm not even sure of my exact motivations, except it seemed like a good idea). I think, once my fingers get used to the new form of abuse, it's going to be a lot of fun. And I'm going to stick around from now on to do the second hour of goofing off with all the guitar students as well, because about a third of my motivation for taking classes there is to meet interesting people. And if the concert tonight (which I thought I was going to miss because of my class) taught me anything, it's that musicians who are good are absolutely fascinating to me.

And standing there in my business casual clothes, toting a rented mandolin (whose name, for the time being, is Remy) and bopping around to the music, I felt like I looked like such a poseur. But at the same time... for once I didn't care. So maybe that's a sign that I'm on a better track now. I think it was good first date with Remy, and I could feel him echoing the music there. Ahhh, I missed having an instrument.

Also Andrew Bird is amazing, in case I haven't gotten that across yet. I imagine my crush on him will continue until I get to see Sufjan Stevens live or something.

Now the goal for the rest of tonight is sleep, because this week has only been two days long so far, and it already feels crazy-long. My bedroom isn't anywhere close to being unpacked, and I don't think I've gotten a full night's sleep in a long, long time.