How I know I'm home

Yesterday was typical in a way that I had forgotten it could be - a plan that was changed at the last minute (and still then hardly set) for a day in the city. And so I end up chasing buses, twice, and catching them both. I am particularly proud of hounding the 6 from the 57th street to the 56th street stop, considering that I couldn't cut through the park with the snow and the bus got a turning arrow by the museum and I was wearing the wrong shoes. I'm glad I thought to zip up my keys in a pocket first. And then State Street, with more shopping on it than I ever remember I want to do, and walking in circles until my feet got too tired. The Art Institute for presents, and Marshall Fields (why are they always out of what I want?) and lunch with Ben and German things, which somehow, every year, still cost more than I expect them to. And we didn't even get mulled wine, the very reason Ethan wanted to be there. But the weather was fine, with bright skies and little wind, and there was no waiting for buses (clearly) and we did catch the 10 on the way home for a startlingly quick journey - early enough to miss traffic, apparently. Crunching snow on the way home while Ethan laughs at me. This is Chicago life.