Happily, Becki

I cannot understand everyone's fascination with Chicago.

I could think of a very long list of things I would rather do than visit Chicago. And on that list, there would be things such as "scrub all the floors in my house with a toothbrush" or "go to the dentist".

Chicago is loud. Chicago feels grey. Chicago smells like concrete.

Chicago sounds stressful.

The drivers in Chicago scare me to death. When Timmy and I drive in Chicago I spend half the time screeching at him to pretty please be careful, and the other half with my eyes squeezed tightly shut - praying hard. I go back and forth between squeezing his hand in a death grip and loudly demanding that he put BOTH HANDS ON THE WHEEL for heaven's sake! And when we finally, finally reach our parking destination, the ridiculous parking fees promptly take away any idea we had of going out for a fancy dinner.

I've been to Chicago twice and, after the last experience, I asked Timmy very nicely to never take me there again.

I don't usually tell people how much I dislike Chicago. Because I feel utterly left out of the "I love Chicago" club everyone seems to be a part of. Dear friends, please promise to love me even though I don't like Chicago.

Today I am feeling a bit anxious. Because my passport - you know, that passport I'll be needing to be let into England in one week - has not come in the mail yet. And if we don't get it by Saturday morning, Timmy and I are going to have to make an emergency trip to downtown Chicago. Because that is the only place to go when you need a passport in a hurry.

And, not even the promise of TWO Chipotle meals from Timmy makes the prospect of that trip seem any more enticing.

Please please passport, come today!