Thirty years old and I still don't have a lock on how to stay dry when it's raining. Planning has never been a strong area of mine, so I haven't even bothered buying an umbrella knowing that I will never plan to take it with me. I have a raincoat...but I use it more as a windbreaker. 

All day yesterday was filled with moments proving my inability to plan. Leaving work a few minutes early to catch the 3 bus to meet people at the Museum of Contemporary Art (MCA) was a non-issue. I knew it wouldn't be a problem for me to leave work early. What I didn't plan on was missing the bus anyways. If only there was something that could tell me exactly where buses were at all times...

Deciding that waiting fifteen minutes for another bus was far too long was simple for me, because there was no planning involved. "It's only a little over a mile and a half," I say to myself. "I can totally walk that in twenty minutes." Ten minutes later, I'm nowhere fucking near the MCA. I get a cab. 

"I need to get to the MCA in like...seven and a half minutes."

"It's right over here. No problem," Cab Driver tells me. A block later he pulls up to an AMC movie theater. 

"Uh, sorry, no. I need to go to the Museum of Contemporary Art."

"Oh," Cab Driver chuckles. "You said MCA," and he was definitely being condescending at this point. I should've known he was the only human being within the metropolitan area of Chicago that refers to the Museum of Contemporary Art as the Museum of Contemporary Art and not the MCA. 

"Indeed I did," stumbled out of my mouth as I mentally subtracted dollars from his tip.

While at the MCA (alone, towards the end), I took the south elevator up to the fourth floor where, when the door opened, a man who must've been eight feet tall was standing so still that I was positive he was a piece of art until he started speaking. Not being able to discern humans from artwork was a sure fire sign that it was time for me to leave. Giving myself more than an hour of time, I casually walked to the bus stop to catch the 3 bus back to Congress and Michigan Ave. for a business journalism night class at 33 Congress. 

Oddly enough, the bus was waiting for me.

The concept of buying "futures" on the stock exchange was discussed for at least three hours in the building at 33 Congress yesterday. The searing question was "You can invest in rain?" The answer? Who cares what the answer is, the question made my brain hurt.