What was wet is now slippery
I’m feeling rather self-satisfied. Today, work was a bit like a fast-paced tennis match. I don’t actually play tennis, but that’s what I imagine it to be. A volley of balls (requests for assistance) that I deflect or return according to the need. Never missed a beat, and that “things to do” list is diminishing, steadily. That’s a good thing.
My shipping of computers to our schools is well underway, and the pile that blocked a door in the back of the server room is shrinking. If nothing untoward happens, my pile for this year will be done by Friday. And there might not be a “me” in next year, so…
Someone pointed out that my vacation time will be improved this year, in keeping with a particular clause in the collective agreement that I’ve never considered relevant before now. A long summer, followed by a short fall, if you will. Yes, that’s a smile.
We broke with common sense this evening and cracked open a box of chicken burgers. Not on the list of good food, or healthy food, or any rational list. Just a whim; not to be repeated for ages and ages. Some day, I’ll reread this post, and the memory will flood back (along with the virtual heartburn).
Yes, it’s slippery outside. Best that one walk away from the beaten track, where cars have slid through stops. Over by the university, that “jump-down hump” at one pedestrian crossing light is definitely to be avoided (unless you have macabre fantasies about falling under the bus).
