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The plate...
Oct. 24th, 2012 06:55 pmI have this mental image of Tattoo, from the old Fantasy Island series, pointing into the sky crying, "The plate! The plate!" with that French intonation that Hervé Villechaise was famous for. That kind of visualization is the kind of idiocy that creeps into my consciousness when work pressure is suddenly relieved. The four days of work I anticipated on Sunday have been compressed into three, with only a moderate modicum of extra mental muscle applied.
The plate is empty, for now.
Galina took the opportunity to go visit the broker she hangs her real estate license with, and to stop by the IKEA (her broker's office is about 35 miles away, and considering our Infiniti's age and fuel (in)efficiency, trips like that must maximize those kinds of opportunities).
So if I feel like it, I might just take the opportunity tonight to convert my work setup to a standing configuration. Or not.
I am feeling a bit ornery in that regard, as I've spent quite a bit of time at my desk today.
Dinner calls...
The plate is empty, for now.
Galina took the opportunity to go visit the broker she hangs her real estate license with, and to stop by the IKEA (her broker's office is about 35 miles away, and considering our Infiniti's age and fuel (in)efficiency, trips like that must maximize those kinds of opportunities).
So if I feel like it, I might just take the opportunity tonight to convert my work setup to a standing configuration. Or not.
I am feeling a bit ornery in that regard, as I've spent quite a bit of time at my desk today.
Dinner calls...
