Piling around me
Someone noticed that my cubicle is shrinking. Not the contours; the space inside. Seems that every single technical problem requiring hands-on with a broken computer is answered by piling the equipment within reach of me. Time to put a roof over the top and brick me in, à la Cask of Amontillado.
Seriously, when I transferred “in”, back at the end of the last century, I shared the whole room with one other person. Now we are seven. Not only is my world getting warmer, but it’s running out of room. The two are not related, apparently. I’m easy. All I ask is that the exit be kept clear, in case of fire or retirement.
Have to decide, soon, if it is time to go “winter wear”. Put the windbreaker and polar back on a fat hangar and bring out the parka. If only there was more space in the cubicle. You see, we also ran out of available coat hooks some years ago. I keep my coat close by (in case of fire or…).
Scary photo on the front page of the Globe and Mail this morning (and on page 18 of the local paper; regional interest is much lower). The current and three of the earlier prime ministers, en route to South Africa for the Mandela funeral. Seriously – if a parent wants to prove the existence of the boogie man, this will work just fine. And if you wondered about my political stripe, here’s a fervent wish that we can relabel this photo to “four former prime ministers”.
And in the category News Too Important To Ignore, the Big Tree in the Glen has blown over. With a circumference of close to six metres, and the age estimated at about five centuries, that’s sad.
