Well, it was either make this in-wall cabinet a bar or use it to store the china for which it was originally designed (another reason to drop things and run to the south side when I invite you to parties here). Anyone who knows me understands that I made the only decision I could. Now I just need some vodka, an armangac, and an aromatic bitter, and I could possibly work from home. With the weather being "baby bear" perfect, I was finally able to adjust the shelves to accommodate the tall bottles of liquor I had in the pantry, then moved my wine/spirits guides and recipe books to the top shelf, with the humidor. I need to find a dozen martini glases for the bottom shelf, some snifters, an ice bin, and a new smoking jacket, then I'll be living in Bachelor Pad Royale
This morning was spent running around, doing errands, and tidying up the place a bit. The police department installed one of those beautiful cameras at 31st and Lituanica, to monitor the gang activity in the Bridgeport Gardens. The folks at Bridgeport Coffee House said that another one's going up at 32nd Place and Morgan. Where I'd really like to see one go up is at the southwest corner of McGuane Park, along 30th and Poplar. That might require the Park Disctrict or Streets and Sanitation actually fixing the street light the gangs keep breaking, so they can whistle to each other in the dark. My fear is that they do that, the camera goes up, then I'm cited for walking around with an unleashed dog. Poetic irony, thy name is Sudo.
Thanks to Ace Hardware, my office now looks like I'm actually doing something important in there. I've got the liquor catalogs on one shelf, financial forms on another, posted bicycle maps for both Chicago and New York City on the wall, and finally threw away the cardboard boxes that stored everything for two years. I even found my Writer's Guide while digging shit out. So I'll be sending out some query letters in the upcoming weeks.
I'm also working on a new code word for Emmy when we go out for our walks. It gets a little frustrating when she doesn't poop, and she looks at me like she did something wrong. I understand that sometimes a dog just can't go, but Emmy doesn't bark unless the mail carrier comes around (she's a sucker for a woman in uniform), so I have no idea what she wants. I've resorted to Pavlovian technique, which I think is cool, bcause she's the smartest mammal in my apartment. I don't know who's training whom during this.
When Emmy comes up to me and nuzzles me with her snout, I'll ask, "What do you want?" Then she'll go into a begging position, and shake my hand. I'll crouch down and ask again, "What do you want?" Emmy starts to pat her feet, so I'll say, "Okay. Show me!"
With that, she'll either run to the kitchen, to let me know she wants food or a treat, or she'll fetch her leash, which states the obvious. If she's fetching the leash, I know she has to go pretty serious. When we get to the park and she starts to hunch in a pooping position, I'll get right up to her and say, "Drop the deuce! Good girl!!" It's my hope that when I say that, Emmy becomes conditioned to actually poop. This should make for some quizzical stares from the neighbors, the morning tai chi groups, and passers by. I'm looking forward to it.
Well, off to the Windy City Wine Festival.