Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Corner Gas

It's about showing up...

Showing up is 90% apparently. A poll or a vote can be a showing, I believe after “show of hands”. An exhibition of some kind, a slow reveal. Stevie’s been rather calculating about his recent showings. A Bush birthday here, a flapjack flip there, but sitting out the AIDS conference in Toronto. Memories of Kyoto Dave? But would it be a sauce or a salad dressing…

Having snubbed Rick Mercer on many occasions and eschewing almost all opportunities to appear jovial, mildly sanguine or alive at all really, he is now poised for his non-campaign/party announcement television debut. Corner Gas. Prime Minister Stephen Harper will appear on an episode of Corner Gas. I can’t imagine him or the show becoming at all more popular for it, but there it is. It is not surprising, a show showcasing the desperation with which locals of the bleak prairie small town embrace the mildly farcical and mundane day to day in an attempt to enchant the rest of the country with the warm small town feel of the Canadian West. This appeals to Stevie and he may even perhaps feel that we are too inundated with show after show after show displaying the desperation and exhilaration expressed by city dwellers hooting over the latest equally mundane drama in their big city-small worlds. We must now be ready to accept our PM who would rather appear to the public in a generic Saskatchewan gas station than in a cosmopolitan city centre. And why not? The appearance of our country’s leader at an AIDS conference in our biggest city alongside Bill Clinton would only sour the palette of our friends South and West of the Canadian Shield. There’s no AIDS past Winnipeg, except for junkies in Vancouver and they of course were asking for it. Trade is important, and you don’t want to muddy the waters with those already up to the thighbone in oil sands. Oh, and the Northwest passage too.

We had a forum, we discussed the issue, we agreed. We invited the people who could do something, but they’re not around. Sound familiar? Is it Kyoto? Is it AIDS? Is it the UN (I’m talking about Darfur, but this really could be anything)? How about the other side of it? Isn’t it irksome that groups like the IMF, the World Bank and a “coalition of the willing” can get together and agree and something happens? Shall we look to our media and telecommunications to find our leaders and ask them what reasons they could have for not only failing but refusing to participate in the discussion? Look closely for Steven this fall: he won’t be next to Lloyd Robertson discussing lumber traffic; he won’t be with Peter Mansbridge discussing Canada’s participation in the Middle East crisis. No, to see our leader, the Minister of highest office in this country, the man who won us all (I would like to hereby remind everyone I voted for the Bloc just to cause trouble) by insisting on accountability, ethics and transparency can be found in his most comfortable place and time: Corner Gas.

Monday, August 21, 2006

Why does my office life resemble CNN?

Security Watch: Day 4.

Day 1 was Friday. How do I even…I don’t want to write about work. I don’t want to spend valuable time on the phone with my friends talking about things other than our lives and what is important to us. I certainly don’t intend to spend therapy money on time talking about this self-important prick, but there it is. So now I have gone through what should be a simple, easy confirmation with him that has in fact been a nightmare that is now going into Day 5.

I don’t enjoy the conversations about a job site turning into screaming matches. I can usually keep my cool if necessary, but this went way too far. Why is it so difficult for professionalism to be the norm? What good can come of name-calling and personalizing an issue? I don’t feel I should need to call the director of my department to babysit a man triple my age, but there it is. He’s a prick and there’s no getting around it. There are pricks in this world, and until a short while ago, you could post your favourite office nonsense story on It must have gotten out of hand because finally the posting parts ceased. I read many a story confirming and mostly surpassing mine in the apparent refinement of humans misbehaving and not in the fun way. Is this where bullies really end up? Are these where the hall monitors and finger pointers went to in adulthood? For what good reason should this type of behaviour be so commonplace? Why should I have to tell this particular shithead that I am not interested in why he thinks racial profiling is a good idea and that he should not at all be bringing that up in the workplace?

Are we this complacent? Have we found ourselves either so tired or so desensitized that we don’t care anymore when other people are jackasses? I tell these stories so often and the response is always, well there’s always bullshit in an office. Why does this have to be so? Is it more that there is just bullshit everywhere and most of us work in offices so we perceive them as fertile breeding grounds, concentrations of self-important nonsense? Perhaps. I nevertheless must dig deep and discover my own TRUE GRIT. For he shall not merit the ripped skin of my palms; it is not so base as to tear for his toil.

Security watch: Day 5.

As I confirmed this already last week, all’s quiet. Too quiet.

Sunday, August 13, 2006

wanna stop thinkin about you...

Think of someone close to you. Someone you respect and love. Someone who you think highly of. Now think of that person killing someone. How do you forgive them for such a thing? And he’s not around to yell at. You can’t ask him why. There is just you and your heart and whether you can reopen it.

Now think of someone you’ve known your whole life. Someone whose presence is assumed, inherent. Someone who makes part of you who you are just by being that gatepost in your personality. Now think of that person leaving. One day he’s gone. You can’t find out why, or know if he’s alright. You can’t see him or hear his broadcast anymore: he’s off your map. How do you forgive him for that?

Finally, think of someone who means something to you. Someone you love. Someone who you want to protect. Now he’s sick and there’s nothing you can do to heal him. You can’t make him better, you can’t convince him to trust a doctor and you can’t blame him for finding the only reasonable way out. How do you forgive yourself for not making him better? For not taking more steps?

All of these are the same person for me and these questions along with his absence are strong and quite hard on the heart.

airport security my aunt fanny...

Is there a drinking song about adding baggage security?

So here we are again tromping along in the giant’s footsteps. The spokeswoman for the Transport Canada said specifically that the move on banning aerosols, creams, juices and other liquids this weekend, past the 48 hour speculation after the thwarted attack last week, was in order to “harmonize with the U.S.”. I can’t imagine a scenario by which mimicking the pointless measures taken for extra-security by a panic stricken neighbor is the role or mission of Transport Canada, but there you have it. And who is mentioning this publicly? Travellers are annoyed at the extra delays, but no-one seems perturbed by the fact that we are not currently the target of those who allegedly plotted to bomb the UK planes and that these “extra security measures” have no impact whatsoever on our safety or well-being. These are measures taken in the absence of leadership, a vaccum of policy which engenders nothing but contempt for our own established procedures and envy of those close to us who appear to take action. While wu-wei can be the enlightened achievement of a purpose by inaction, this zen-like pattern recognition of how to behave in our own culture is becoming all to familiar, all too acceptable, all too known. This is not the way for a reasonable culture to behave, and despite the opposition, despite the freer media, despite the public outcry, I worry that four years is too long. I worry that these actions will take hold in that time and become normal. I worry that the next administration will be just like this, and I worry that when a third level security feature is added to my bag check in case there is contraband or nuclear materials in my tan-suede carryall, I worry that it will be familiar and not at all a surprise.

sunday before monday

It was another one of those type of weekends. I would love to suggest it came with as much humour and quiet dignity as a Garrison Keillor opus, but it was just me and the people I know. We just did the usual weekend things and talked about not being at work over the weekend. This is one of the nothing places in my mind like spacing out, but having a conversation during it. I can’t say anything came of it, or that I learned anything. I can say I looked on wistfully at others who went out and did things. My bartender came into the bar today with a text book. It was latin, and I could not make head or tail of it. I think mostly this came of intending to spend this weekend writing, entering contests and preparing relevant documents. None of that happened, and now I’m writing for the sake of saying I wrote something in the last week. This is who I am today. Not even as much as a failure, because to fail you must first attempt to do something. I am wasteful and monotonous and perhaps over-zealous at planning what to achieve in my spare time. What must I be really than just a slightly bigger contribution than nothing at all?

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Beyond the Beyond

He really went and did it this time!

So. Okay. Okay, so. Oh god. Look people, I just want you to know that Peter Mackay is a complete shithead. He is irrational and quick to judge, making him picture perfect for the role of foreign affairs minister. I would like for any international readers to understand that the opinions expressed by Peter Mackay in special sessions of the Foreign Affairs Committee are those of the Ministers’ and do not reflect those of the people of Canada.

Here’s the thing: Harper’s cozying even further under the Bush blanket in this enormous heat. It must be sweaty under there, but Stevie’s a trouper. Without fully respecting or even understanding the long-term and indeed historical conflict occurring in Southern Lebanon/Northern Israel, he has jumped into the polarized photo shoot to pick one black hat, one white hat and run with it. Peter for his part, is playing along nicely. It was one thing to step in personally and get that family out of Lebanon. It scored some points and no-one could possibly attack him for it. I would have preferred if the Minister of Foreign Affairs, the Right, Honourable Peter Mackay would have gotten more Canadians out sooner rather than bartering at the last minute with a Turkish broker, but hey, it’s a rough gig and I’m glad I don’t have it. Now today he’s decided that Hezbollah is a “cancer”. In some of the harshest language yet used on the schoolyard playground that is the Parliamentary floor, he decreed that they are terrorists and cold-blooded killers. Here’s the thing: the government of Lebanon is now backing them. We are no longer talking about a well-armed privately funded militia which is a huge nightmare on its own. We are now talking about a government sanctioned military action. This alone has upped the ante and of course everyone except our two fuckheads is playing it very cool. The U.N. is talking about sanctions, an American diplomatic team is talking about talking, this is escalating quickly and needs to be handled with care and respect. Enter Peter Mackay, the man who held a press-conference in an unforgettable wet raincoat in a field shortly after Belinda buggered off. It was stunning. He was less coherent than the cow standing behind him and I can’t say I would be averse to hearing the bovine opinion on Canada’s participation in the Middle East.

The people of Israel have had a rough ride. The people of Lebanon have not had it any easier. And Peter’s contribution to a mounting death toll, more rockets than have yet been seen to date and an Israeli occupation force is, “They started it.”

Again, anyone out there who is curious about these apple-cheeked morons appearing on Canada’s behalf everywhere, please bear in mind that most of us did not vote for these people. They got around 30% of the votes cast, but a small percentage of eligible voters went to the polls at all. This brings their real standing to around 17%, so honest to god people, do not take them as a sample of Canada’s culture. He’s the Minister of Foreign Relations for god’s sake and the only real relation he has ever had is now in fact Foreign. She crossed his heart and the floor of the House of Commons in a stunning attention grab to get the media again to ignore more pressing issues and left Peter lost in a field to look only ahead to a crisis again beyond his comprehension. Couldn’t he just go home for a bit and regroup? I know it’s hard when things get out of hand. But we must all remember that name-calling won’t get us anywhere, at least when the people we’re talking about can bomb the shit out of us and our friends.

Perhaps there is a simple solution. Perhaps all the intelligence that doesn’t make it to the airwaves can indeed identify a single catalyst brought on intentionally by one side. The fact remains now that we are in it and calling any side a “cancer” in public will not be a balm or cooling salve to the wretchedness occurring. It will not present a calm face and it will not suggest to the people we are trying to convince that we understand and wish to alleviate their crisis. It will not show Foreign countries that we Relate to them. I have an idea: let’s get a title for minister of Out-of-our-Depth. God knows we’ve been there before, and it’s not unreasonable to imagine some elective energy and a parliamentary staff looking into affairs for which we are woefully unprepared to even prepare for. I would have said Minister of Saying The Quiet Stuff Loud And The Loud Stuff Quiet, but I doubt it would float.

We are known as the peace-keepers, the good neighbors, the ones who don’t piss people off. This has worked in our favour, just look at how often terrorists and other threatening countries have left us alone. Even when they made that shitty Independence Day movie, Canada was left out of it completely. Even aliens aren’t interested. They just knocked the shit out of everything else and moved on.

Whether Red-Cheeks and Stevie like it or not, we have some heavyweights. They’re not the type of people you send in to not ask questions and just clean house, but Pierre Pettigrew could get those people to sit down. Think any of them might remember Lloyd Axworthy? Andre Ouellet wouldn’t say no I don’t think, and I think John Manley has some time on his hands nowadays. Even Henry Beatty could probably wrangle some butts into seats. Peter Mackay is going to make an ugly situation worse. He is polarizing sides already beyond the limits of black and white. He is provoking further attacks and he is encouraging ill-informed reaction. Canada at the moment is not a target country. We don’t get baited. We don’t get unnecessarily brought into things. We pay for this in many ways that are often difficult and unpleasant. We don’t always agree on military action or reaction. We don’t have a lot of history getting into international calamities on a whim. An unfortunate result has been issues of friendly-fire, loss of the rights of our citizens and questions of sovereignty. We will not get further with these issues by barking out opinions in the worst possible example of unskilled rhetoric.

It is beyond me how baiting Hezbollah will aid the situation for Lebanon, Israel or anyone else. It is beyond me how siding wholeheartedly with a country currently occupying its aggressor will help calm the crisis. It is beyond me how calling out “they started it” will give any depth or weight to the opinion of Canada in the eyes of the international community and the two countries involved. I think just maybe it’s beyond Peter too.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Life in the fishbowl...

9:46 am
It’s one of those things where I just can’t concentrate or get started at all. The light outside is perfect, it’s quiet and I’m totally hyper. I’m best at this with one foot tapping against the other under my seat as I type. Hmm, pain in my abdomen. Left side. Gonna hafta look at that at some point. This would be the perfect setting in which to write the underwater pachyderms. Derm. Skin. Floating. I’m looking at the reflection in the window of the office across from me. I can hear the voices behind me of the people reflected in the window. There is no reflection when that office light is on. When Simon gets back from his vacation, no more dark mirror. No more moving branches in the window in his office that I look through through the window from his office into my area. Too much light. I can hear the fluorescents. Foot tapping. I should be working. It’s not like there isn’t anything to do. I just can’t bring myself to do it. Maybe I should go get a bagel. More coffee will make me too hyper. Got up too early this morning, that’s it. That’s why I’m jumpy. I wish this pain in my side would go away. Well it does, but it flares up always. I want it to stay away. Dammit, there it is again. I need to go home. I need to be home writing. If I went home, the sun would come out and I would watch CNN all afternoon. I wish I was home right now at my keyboard. Mm. Pachyderms.

9:54 am
It was just my period starting thank god. Not cancer, not bowel upset. Not anything new and undiagnosible. I should have …

10:07 am
…called in sick today. Was on a phone call and answering some emails. I wonder what I would be doing if I was at home right now. Would I be productive? Would I be eating toast and rosehip jam? I’d probably be thinking about how soon I can all angie. Probably because I’m thinking about that now. My internet connection wasn’t working this morning. I don’t need that to work on the book, but it pissed me off anyway.

10:12 am
Trouble in the local fire panel. I hate the security company hired by our landlord. They called me day in and day out, sometimes at 4 or 5 am. They called me on Christmas Day. I’m not particularly devout, but I certainly don’t expect work calls on December 25th. And it was a Satuday! Jerks. Now they just call my landlord who then emails me or calls me. It’s not in any way better. There is never an issue. That is my big deal. There is always a reason for them to call which is no reason whatsoever. We check all systems over and over and there is never anything wrong and they call anyway. I sometimes wish that safely, securely, without damage to the company, employees or distribution I could efficiently burn down the building just to see if they call me at the time. I suspect they wouldn’t.

10:18 am
So I hired a security guard to monitor a store during overnight construction. The store manager gave the guard a chair and said to sit outside the store and watch from outside. There were 5 contractors inside. Apparently the store manager gave him this instruction for no reason I can imagine. To watch the door maybe? I’m going to be 28 in September. Can you believe this is my life?

10:26 am
Now I can’t think of anything. That last revelation comes up every so often and it is so frightening I can’t think for a short while after. 28. My grandmother called the weekend before last. She will be in Toronto on my birthday with my aunt. She said I need to do something. I think she meant with my life. She probably meant get married. To whom I cannot say. Then she said I would be the first grandchild to be 30. I said, I’m the oldest. Of course I’ll be the first one to be 30. I was the first one to be sixteen, the first one to the 20, the thing is, time is linear as we experience it, and I was first out. Period. Also, I’m turning 28. I don’t need to hear about 30 for another two years and 7 weeks. I hate that I’m turning 28. It means 27 wasted years. I don’t count the first year because I was learning to talk and see past 17 inches. That year is a freebie. The rest went down the hole.

10:31 am
I’ve decided this month is cash saving month. I need to make that my focus for the next little while since the girl taking over the second empty room at my place only plans to stay until May. I can spend a little more (that’s how glaciers etch out mountains you know, inch by tiny inch) time here saving cash until I don’t know, maybe my head will explode. I mostly just want some security so when I do go off the deep end, it won’t be, oh god I can’t support myself. Although by then I’ll probably be seeing giant rabid ticks at the end of every s

11:00 am
Anne-marie just told me that my keyboard might not survive for long if I continue typing like this. They have keyboards in California that are like spheres and your hands go on each side. That’s cool. Anyway, that’s the plan. Every time there is a huge freakout in my life, everything stops. I just close down and get exhausted so easily. It adds to the anxiety that usually starts about a week later. What if I can’t work anymore at all? How long would unemployment last if I needed it? What should I do? Who should I talk to? Big panic which usually adds to the rest of the panic. I’m going to assume that further nonsense is going to present itself to me in the future. I’m told that once it starts, friends dying in nonsense, fucked up ways, it only continues. There’s none of this, lying in state, calmly sleeping endlessly, saying goodbye in a hospi

11:09 am
I am concerned.

11:18 am
For some reason two sites come up when I search for ergonomic keyboards. One I guess I can figure out because the page suggests an ergonomic keyboard for pirates. The escape key says Avast. The other is actually called Avast and when I click on it turns out to be exactly the same thing. I am now spending several seconds clearing my net history from my harddrive. Didn’t find the keyboard that’s a sphere. Maybe this weekend.

11:29 am
The washrooms here smell too strongly of lemon. It’s a sickly, pledge type scent that I find overpowering. I detected something different when I sat down and pulled down my black lacies just now in the nicer washroom near the coffee machine on the other side of the space. I went and put my cup in the dispenser, set it to fill and went inside while it poured. This is a normal process for me. It was a stronger, but lovelier scent. Maybe the hormones, maybe just the day. No blood. Just me, enjoying myself, making friends in a quiet moment. Disappointing to get up and be nasally assaulted by strong lemon and disinfectant handsoap. Somehow so masculine, so astringent. I would smell this if I was sitting at home. I could take the panties off and throw a skirt on, or just kneel up on my bench with my feet under me. I can always right with a whiff of that under my nose. It is inspiring, an aromatic muse.

11:43 am
is it too soon to go to lunch?

11:46 am
Lunch. I finished my book on the way to work today, so I’m not sure what I’ll read over my lunch hour. Maybe I’ll just go up to the terrace and sit in the nice air for a while. I brought my notebook, so I could write I guess. I miss David, although if he was in today I couldn’t write along with the clock. I wonder what Alex is doing. I wonder if Angie is bored. She’s probably not quite up yet, it’s only 10:45 her time and Arkansas sans cable and internet access means no reason to get up before 1:30 in my opinion. I can’t wait until she’s back. I can’t wait to go out with her and point at things and sit on terraces with beer. Maybe I can go for a little walk. I wish I had a Batman comic with me. For some reason, that would really hit the spot.

11:49 am
I’m not even really hungry, I just want to be doing something. I want the idea of, oh, I’m on my lunch. I probably wouldn’t be getting any more done than I am now, but it would be as though something was happening. I’m glad it’s not that busy. If I was too busy today I would be tired and stressed and there would be no hope of writing anything tonight. At least on light days I can conserve my energy. I wonder who would notice if I wasn’t around? Not left exactly, just sort of, not here.

11:58 am
Etienne is such a beautiful name.

12:04 pm
It’s sticky and humid out! That’s my ticket! I have severe asthma, (10 cortical steroids a day plus an emergency pump cause those daily doses only keep me level with the masses and can’t be counted on for emergencies) The air conditioning is not right at this place and if it gets too miasmic I may just need to run home to what appears to be a dalek sitting directly in front of my bed. I love it! It shoots freezing, dry, breatheable air directly at me and beeps affectionately when the reservoir is full. When it is full, I empty it knowing that my wonderful Dr. Who enemy has litterally sucked the water out of the air in order to prevent me from breathing it. That’s something to count on. That is devotion.

12:10 pm
Holy shit! The temperature is 32 degrees celcius, but feels like 44 degrees with the relative humidity, get ready, of 72 percent! My god. I don’t want to leave now, I’ll choke on the way to the subway. Isolated showers this afternoon with a risk of thundershowers this evening. That means the air is pretty much just going to hang suspended at eyelevel, microscopic droplet by microscopic droplet until the wind changes. Not even ozone and electricity will budge a front like that. 2-4 mm of rain is expected between now and tomorrow morning. No end in sight. 81 percent humidity expected tomorrow. Maybe that day I’ll call in sick.

12:52 pm
uneventful lunch. Lamb and steamed vegetables, spicy rice. I sat with some people from my department and one other. Banal conversation, small knowing laughs. It is truly disgusting outside. Could only go out for a moment or two. I need to stop walking through reception. Anna, the receptionist, is a lot of fun and I really like her. Whenever I see her she asks me for something. Hello doesn’t ever really enter into it and when I’m halfway up the stairs, she will call out to me have I heard about this or that or can we adjust this. Then I go back down and talk to her about whatever it is. I desperately want to just silently walk away, but more than likely I will end up with phone calls and voice mails and emails on the subject. She wants reception to be perfect, which it should be. I want it to be perfect so that I don’t have to hear about it.

12:56 pm
Still on my lunch hour, so I’m going to draw. A little something’s been going through my head for a while now, so I’ll give it a whirl.

1:19 pm
Could only draw the most rudimentary stickperson storyboard. Looked for a pencil for a while, settled on a pen when I couldn’t find one. Several phone calls and emails. It is excruciating on one side of the building and they are starting to yell in my direction because the person who took over the head office repairs isn’t getting back to them. Probably he is but they are frustrated and want to tell as many people as possible.

1:30 pm
I should have minimized this window before I got up to go to the washroom. There are heat calls coming in from everywhere. The humidity is at record levels and the machines I have working can’t cope with this volume. It now occurs to me that if I burned down the building to spite the alarm company, it would release smoke and more heat into the air, thus heating my city even more. There are times when I wish I was a housewife and I could hide from all this, but there’s a good chance I am one in a parallel universe and she’s wishing she could hide from something else.

1:37 pm
It occurs to me now that maybe I should separate the major stories in the book into cohesive units and make 2 or maybe three. The problem is that they all fit in together and although they are distinct, it is only apparent by the middle of each part. You can’t see where they begin and end. And don’t most books have more than one story going on at a time? I have no idea what I’m doing with this thing. Maybe they should be short stories together. But they all culminate at the same point. I’ll have to look at it when I get home. I feel fat but it’s just skin I’m holding onto. I am exhausted and it’s 1:40 only.

1:42 pm
It is hot and awful out, but the trees are blowing around quite strong. I can see them through the windows. I’m listening to the sounds of the office. No-one is playing music today. I want to hide under my desk. The fog is coming. I can’t think of anything to put down. Just staring straight ahead, unable to think. Jumping when

2:02 pm
Jumping when I hear my name. I don’t need this much adrenaline in my body. I wonder what the chances are of a flash blizzard in the next few minutes.

2:35 pm
More phone calls and emails and paper to sign. I wonder if any of it actually means anything. It’s sort of the meat and potatoes of what I do. I imagine digestive enzymes who are in no way aware of the contemplations of the brain on the nature of being, but who nevertheless take orders from it, react to organic items ingested by it’s direction and indeed breakdown kry-something or other that the brain really really really likes during a fast. I feel like that little enzyme. No eyes, no ideas, just reaction and in and of itself pointless motion. Part of a greater whole it is in no way aware of. This heat must be getting to me.

3:15 pm
I can smell that dr. scholls spray stuff I use on my shoes when I get home. Either my shoes are saturated or my feet are moist. It wouldn’t surprise me in this heat. Invoices at the moment. I usually reserve the last hour of the day to do only that, but today I need to do it now or risk staring into space for another few hours. I can see small meaning in this; the suppliers who work for me will get paid.

3:24 pm
Anthony brought popsicles! I love the chemical flavour of cherry on a stick.

3:42 pm
Ten minutes late for a meeting I missed entirely yesterday. No idea why Outlook won’t alert me when a meeting is due, but there you have it. Luckily the program I am being shown in this meeting is completely down, so no big loss.

4:00 pm
Program I’m being shown is entirely dependant on a website which currently is down. I wonder if this is really software I want if it is linked directly to a site and not a program that is installed locally. Invoices coming along, area getting to hot. Clouds outside. I hope it rains.

4:05 pm
It’s getting sunny out again! What the hell is this anyway?

4:32 pm
There has got to be a reason for office managers all being insane control freaks. Challenge them and they will come back to you with tiny, minutely catalogued faxes and emails which I would imagine take as long to archive and file as they do to react to and possibly even coordinate work. I hate dealing with her when my boss and her boss aren’t around because if she freaks out on a scale beyond my capabilities to tolerate, I can go to them. Neither will be back until tomorrow, so her banal power trip is mine to treasure.

4:35 pm
It occurs to me that I am the only person in my department who hasn’t left for the day. I hope my internet connection is working at home tonight. Better go check;)