Bono Bound

I have a bunch of useless things to talk about tonight. I feel accomplished from my day and I'm in rare form...quite social, AWAKE, and just, well, cool. I seldom feel cool without donning my knee-high, high-heeled black boots...or my cute, dangly earrings...or without carrying my "I-Heart-Edward Cullen" notebook around the hospital.

Kidding. "Twilight" is a novel idea, but the teenage vampire angst is a bit much, even for me. They're so dramatic and emo! I'd rather tote my "I-Heart-Bono" notebook around St. Fozzie's.

I'm listening to a "virtual" U2 concert on a favored Chicago radio station. How many radio stations play U2 concerts for their listeners' pleasure? I'm increasingly addicted to Chicago radio, especially stations that play U2 concerts to commemorate the concert that should've occurred at Soldier Field tonight. Alas, Bono broke his back and the concert was postponed...until next year. But The Edge just offered a ticket to me for the make-up concert next year at Soldier Field!

Eeeeee!

But how do you repay someone who's gotten you into not one, not two, not three, but FOUR U2 concerts? Does she get a U2-shaped jewel on her crown in heaven? Maybe it's shaped like a guitar. A red guitar (three chords and the truth).

[She stops to chuckle at her own joke]

By the way, The Edge, I'm publicly thanking you for your U2-themed generosity! What will this be, our seventh U2 concert together?

Shifting gears, after a 12 hour workday (before which I slept a measly 3 hours), I still feel like I could kick some major butt. I helped two of my managers develop action plans to transform their low performers to better performers. Then I went to the hospital Ethics committee meeting (which, I'm sorry, is intellectual heroin for me), survived an accreditation meeting, started the low-down operational analysis with the Periops team (yes, on that project I cannot talk about) and even went to the groomer to get a haircut.

I actually asked my hair stylist if she could just cut my hair another day and spend the whole hour just rubbing my head. She replied by giving me a 15 minute scalp massage and a lengthy shampoo.

I tipped her well.

And oddly, the headache I sported quickly dissipated as the haircut progressed.

I'm going to harness the energy I mysteriously have at this hour and dig into the newest issue of the Harvard Business Review. I know, can Chicago even stand my exciting life??!