Unexpected Nights

The thing about Chicago is the night rarely goes as planned.

Tonight I was going to have a relatively selfish night of a long run, a fancy homemade scallop dinner and a new movie.

Three glasses of wine later and I am soaked in a random park by the lake wondering if the model boats on the playground are meant to symbolize beached boats or boats floating at sea.

Am I beached or floating?

And then Tom stopped by and pulled up a swing. And as he told me stories of directors I will never be able to pronounce, I thought about how good the rain felt and how lovely it was to be young and think you can make it in LA.

And i walked home drenched but somehow joyful as well.

Any night that ends happier than it started, is a good night no matter what the plan was.