Incredible shrinking workspace
Today I returned to the fold. After all, I asked to go back to normal duty, and the doctor was obliging. Little changes in the big picture, and you can take that several ways. My cubicle shrunk; my list of responsibilities didn’t. By the end of the afternoon, I was anxious to return home, where everybody knows my name, and there’s no need to explain.
I learned that my office food collection was actually larger than I had remembered (shrunken cubicle) and had filled a bankerbox, which means that technically the container was now a bunkerbox. I relented and took some home with me, because having the corner on the canned soup market only works when others are buying. The odd joke about preparation for a siege wasn’t enough to tickle my funnybone.
My bus had that new car smell about it, this afternoon. Vehicle 0912, which signifies fresh in city transit lingo. I know, it’s really the odour of (probably) carcinogenic volatile plastic compounds, but I began to wonder what cars smelled like, back when they were actually constructed from metal and tissue and products that only required hydrocarbons for lubrication and propulsion. What did a 1957 Ford Meteor Niagara with red and white trim offer to the young nose? Or a 1961 Chevrolet Biscayne with those strange flattened fins, big enough to hold a picnic basket or a drooling baby?
My project to acquire new speakers for the proposed home cinema is progressing: I now own (but don’t possess) a powered woofer and some tiny (but possibly powerful) speakers to surround the screen. One more win and we have a minimal system. And if anyone knows why one pupil is now somewhat out of round, please whisper the response in my good ear. I’ll then tell that robin that was checking out the ground near the mailbox; early bird gets frozen worms.
