Since her train was leaving at 7:30 from Union Station, which is about a block and a half from our office, we all left the house at about twenty after six and after Nelda [?] and I saw her off we just went on to work. The exchange, of course, is that I get to leave work around four, and I'm not too tired (after four years of Northside, "too tired" may be nonexistent-- having gone days on end with two to four hours of sleep a night and still managing to contemplate Euler's Law and Anglo-Saxon literature, I'm pretty much able to cruise through fatigue). I biked again last night, but I only went about a half hour because it was getting dark. So maybe tonight I'll take advantage of being home in the early evening and bike for an hour and a half or something, then shower, read, watch TV, and go to bed at some ridiculously early hour.

Yesterday I had my meeting with Caleb Gibson, Senator Durbin's education staffer. While waiting in the office to speak to him, I gained a new respect for the two young receptionists at the desk, who sort of reminded me of my hostessing days managing the horde at Margie's. The phones were ringing literally nonstop, and these two girls (they couldn't have been more than a few years older than I) were handling them like professionals (albeit frenzied professionals). This was right during the time that the Senate was talking about gay marriage, and all these people wanted to call and ask where Durbin stood on the issue, or to give their two cents. Some of them were content to say "I'm for it" or "I'm against it," have their opinion tallied, and hang up, but some of them seemed blind to the futility, irrelevance, and idiocy of taking huge stretches of time to argue with the receptionists or give lengthy explanations as to why they believed what they did. I mean, I understand that it's important to make yourself heard, but it's sufficient to say what you have to say and hang up. It's not as if the receptionist, harried and distressed by the five other people she has on hold, wondering why she ever took this job in the first place (stupid student loans), is going to be so moved and convinced by your argument that she'll tear off her headset, kick off her pumps, and run three blocks to the Capitol building, burst through the doors, and shout, "SENATOR DURBIN! MARY KOZIARSKI OF NAPERVILLE THINKS IT'S UNNATURAL!"

But I digress. My meeting went well; I handled things better than I thought I would. Not that I'm not confident-- I am, particularly in a situation like this where I truly know and care about the material I'm discussing. But sometimes I get nervous. Actually, though, it turned out that Mr. Gibson was a lot younger than I expected, and that made me a lot more comfortable. He was also very engaged and interested in what I had to say and not patronizing or anything. So... good.

Oh, I also saw Mayor Daley's son in the office, also waiting to take a meeting with somebody. Like his father, he sort of resembles a cross between a big potbelly stove, a dump truck, a ripe plum, and a five-year-old. Except without the wrinkles.

Work beckons!