The [Wednesday] Papers

Heading over to my Bucktown timeshare today for another Weekend at Benny's.

For those not in-the-know, that means I'm pet-sitting the World's Greatest Cat again at the condo he shares with my friend Dr. Nick and his lovely wife, Julie. I get to "share" it a few times a year and watch over Benny when Nick and Julie travel. It's like Uber for extremely part-time, exclusive cat-sitters with one client who is actually a friend who leaves beer in the fridge for me.

Now, I'm not really a pet person. And I'm definitely not one of Crazy Cat People who basically own the Internet. But Benny is a real piece of work.

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I'll be there through Sunday morning. You can still reach me all the usual ways, it's just one neighborhood over!

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I'll still post to the site while I'm in Bucktown, and I did make a couple late posts yesterday I will point you to for now:

Obama Library Already Displacing Residents
Guess who's already raising rents $200 a month, for starters?

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The Political Odds
Updated to reflect recent developments.

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This just in from the departing Dr. Nick: "Picked up some Old Style Talls for you."

This is my vacation, folks! Spring Break 2018!

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Why "Dr. Nick?"

Well, one time back in the day I discovered some weird red markings on my side. It wasn't a rash, but it covered a pretty large area. It sort of looked like I had fallen asleep on a grill. So naturally I went to the bar - and by "the bar" I mean the Beachwood Inn, because what other bar is there or has there ever been, really - for a diagnosis, and my pal Nick delivered without wavering an inch: "Shingles."

I mean, Nick was adamant. He knew. He'd had it. There was no doubt in his mind.

The next day I went to my doctor for a second opinion, and to get whatever treatment was required. My doctor is a master diagnostician, by the way. I mean, you can say "Hi Doc!" and he knows what you have immediately. He's that good.

Me: So, I know you hate to hear this as much as you hate to hear that I looked up my symptoms on the Internet, but my friend at the bar diagnosed me with something last night and I thought I'd come to you for a second opinion.

Doc: You don't have shingles.

Me, astonished: How did you know he said shingles?

Doc: Because that's what everyone says.

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My doctor took a look at my side and said it looked like I had brushed up or leaned against something that was causing irritation - not poison ivy, per se, but something like that, be it plant or industrial toxin.

I vaguely recall possibly being prescribed some sort of cream but I'm not totally sure of that; I might have actually had to do nothing but let it go away. Which it did after a few days.

But ever since, my buddy's been "Dr. Nick" to me.

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By the way, Nick is also the King of Airport Beer. He's traveled quite a bit over the years and always posts to Facebook what he's trying at the airport bar. I've encouraged him for years to make a coffee table book out of those posts, but so far to no avail. Maybe Beachwood Media will self-publish that project. Anyone wanna give me a hand?

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Nick is also from Kansas, so he's really excited about the Final Four. Big Royals fan, too.

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Have a great trip, Nick and Julie (and relatively new son Dimitry, whom I assume is going with!).

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Comments welcome.

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