The guy who walks my dog while Kito and I are at work leaves us these notes that lead me to think he lives my dream life. "Sat with Lucy on the grass," they'll say. "Took her tennis ball. Omg she's so cute smiley face!" I mean, who wouldn't want to play with dogs all day long?
I really should know better, seeing as how dog-walking was my first job after college (tuition money well spent, Mom and Dad!). Yes, the playing-with-dogs part was fun, but you also had to do stuff like give pills to cats and figure out how to put insanely complicated harnesses onto rabid pit bulls. Plus, the pay was lousy.
I remember there was this one client who lived in a high-rise on Lake Shore Drive. Somebody told me she had something to do with Peapod, the grocery-delivery service, but I was never able to confirm that. Whoever she was, she was always at home but evidently too busy drinking wine at 11 in the morning to take her poor dog out to heed nature's call. I considered it the height of laziness. I don't care how successful your Internet startup is, if you're at home during the day and physically able, you should put the chardonnay down for five minutes and walk your own goddamn bichon frise.
My review of Goodman Theatre's Crowns is in this week's Chicago Reader.