Happy me.

I had so much blissful, chocolate-covered-with-a-cherry-on-top fun today that I don’t want to go to sleep.

I just keep scrolling back over to the  camera-phone pictures I uploaded to Facebook so I can see it all again.

There’s me at the Chicago Diner and there’s that awesome picture of the skyline. OH! OH! And there’s me holding Bronson’s martini glass so I can look cool.

I have not lately been as calm as I was sipping my $8 hot-chocolate-with-caramel-minus-the-marshmallows in the Signature Room at the Hancock. Looking down over the entire city of golden lights and black diamond buildings and a pond so big they call it a lake, I was all-good.

The world was small. And I could conquer it any day of the week. Twice on Sunday.

Sometimes I forget that I have that ability. Bronson made me remember though.

For all of today.

And I was just me.

Just happy me.

There. I’m done now. Feel free to puke from the joy of it all.

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I was born in ’83 for those keeping track.

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A city to love.

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No alcohol was used in the making of this picture.

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