~Thursday~ I was a non-observant slug on the bus this morning. I read the entire 10- to 15-minute ride, as I’m deep into the Moonlight Becomes You. Several characters are beginning to emerge as the possible murderer—that is to say, several of them have been provided with the two critical criminal elements: motive and opportunity.
A former colleague of mine from IBM forwarded this comic strip with four “Info-maladies”: Googlitis, Archivaholism, Compulsive News Binging, and Metamania. I’ve clipped the Metamania panel here, as it was my favorite.
I had a morning meeting from 10:30-11:30, whose topic was a perennial favorite in bureaucratic institutions: Governance & Policies. Fascinating stuff. Not.
Our weekly 1.5-hour Working Team Meeting was shortened to 1-hour today, as our manager had another meeting commitment before it. In spite of that, we ended up starting at 3:00 instead of 2:30, but kept to our stop time of 3:30. Yay!
Food at today’s meeting involved 100-calorie packs of almonds and walnuts, and Snyder Pretzel Snaps stuffed with Reduced Fat Jif Peanut Butter!
Got to love this Dear Prudence:
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Dear Prudence, My wife just received a series of text messages about the date and time of a funeral to take place about a week from now. This was not especially surprising as the man had been ill for some time. After a few calls to get details, my wife discovered that the man was still alive! He had taken a turn for the worse and was in a coma, so his wife had decided to go ahead and schedule the funeral. While advance planning is certainly convenient, most of those I have spoken to believe that the setting of the date should have waited until there was an actual death. Your thoughts? —Feeling Morbid Dear Feeling, You’re right that in cases where it’s possible, advance planning is a good idea. The mother of Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mum, spent decades meticulously planning her funeral down to the candlesticks. But even though she died at 101, she never said, “You might as well go ahead and pick a date to stick me in the ground. How much longer can I possibly last?” It is rather chilling that the wife is texting everyone with the news. (Did she write, “Hubby OOH; funeral Sat”?) I suppose you can be grateful that as a further convenience, she’s not sending around advance information about her wedding gift registry in case she finds a candidate for remarriage. However, refrain from pointing out to the widow-to-be that her behavior is appalling. She’ll be an actual widow soon enough, so all of you should just act as if her grief has gotten the best of her. Go ahead and mark the date of the funeral on the calendar, but write it in pencil in case the pre-deceased manages to outlive his wife’s designated expiration date. —Prudie |
In order to not miss out on the glorious weather of today, after work I got my lounge chair cushion out of my shed, fixed myself a cocktail and took my book out to read on my deck for a while. It was glorious for about ten minutes, at which time mosquitoes invited themselves to my soirée. Bastards.
I moved inside and read a bunch before falling asleep for a couple of hours.
At 11:15, I headed to Flex for Trailer Park Prize Night, where I joined Alex, Bill, Glenn, Henry, who was eventually joined by “Bruce.” Bruce is in quotation marks, as we’re not so sure that that’s his real name.
I also spoke briefly with Ben and Jeffrey, and I met another Jeff‘s partner, Eddie. I think he went by Eddie and not Ed.
The highlight of the evening was not any particular drag queen’s performance, but a guy lighting up right next to me, whom I policed out to the smoker’s patio.