I have been living in Chicago for a week now, and I have discovered a couple of apartment quirks that need sharing. I present to you, dear readers, the adventures of the grocery cart and the smores maker:
First, the grocery cart. I went grocery shopping for the first time on Saturday, and the girl who is subletting the apt to me (Jenn) has one of those collapsible, rolling grocery dolly things that people who don’t have cars take to the supermarket. If you have ever lived in a large enough city, you have seen one. If not, I bet you can imagine. It’s like a foldable buggy. Anyway, I took it grocery shopping and on the way back was mildly complaining to myself because the handle of the thing is so low. I'm 5'7", and the handle was about 4 inches lower than I would naturally want to push it, which resulted in me being hunched over like an old woman for the 4 blocks home.
I was grumbling about height discrimination when I remembered that Jenn (the subletter) is easily 6 feet tall. The idea of her hunched over this buggy was hysterical to me (funny how it becomes funny when its no longer you). I don’t know how she managed, except that she must have only gone shopping once every blue moon, or perhaps forced a shorter friend to push the cart.
Another strange discovery of the apt: Jenn has one of those smores maker things. You know the thing you see in SkyMall magazine but assume no one would actually buy? Well, she has one. At first I thought it was a fondue pot and I got all excited. But then I slowly recognized it from SkyMall, what with all of the flying home I did last summer when planning my wedding. It’s got little trays for the gram-crackers, chocolate bars and marshmallows, and this little pot with a grill on top for you to roast them. Now I must make smores while I live in Chicago. No sense in wasting a perfectly good smore maker, especially since I am somewhat confidant this is the only time in my life I will encounter such a device.