How shall I summarize thee, Monday?

Evidently in anticipation of the end of the month, the folks who deal with my end client got on the ball and sent a total of 35 non-trivial documents for translation.

Today.

I am most certainly not complaining, but it's this kind of stuff, inter alia, that makes it difficult to participate in endeavors like LJ Idol. This past week's effort was the third experiment in as many prompts (not counting my bye), consisting of a description of an incident that transpired back when I worked for a translation company.

In writing something like this piece, I am frankly amazed at the level of detail that someone like Winston Churchill could dredge up about events that took place decades earlier. Possible explanations for such skill include:

(a) Churchill just had a prodigious memory for detail, and could remember, more or less, what people said when;

(b) Churchill was a meticulous journal-keeper who recorded all of that information as he went along;

(c) Churchill had access to a comprehensive archive of names and places and what is depicted as conversation is an approximation of what was actually said.

In my particular post, the conversations, while fabricated, largely convey what was said, and the ending is a bit contrived. In actuality, my "Simon" was a much more obstinate individual.

Of course, this reminds me of an observation someone made a while back—I believe it may have been an essay by WFB, Jr.—to the effect that if you wanted to make someone out to be a complete idiot, all you had to do was to quote what they say verbatim, with all of the uh's and ah's, every "you know," each redundancy, pause, rephrasing, and so on.

So it just may be that no conversation in any memoir accurately reflects what was actually said.

It's way late. I just sent off the last part of a job, and tomorrow promises to be another day.

Good night!