saint-louise's Diaryland Diary
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Cloudy, with a chance of meatballs.
It's very foggy this fine morning. In the hour and a half that I've been at work, I've heard three different people comment, "Look! Look how foggy it is! You can't even see the parking lot from this window!"
To which I would like to respond: "Look! You are so right! Look at the amazing weather anomaly, which causes our view to the parking structure to be so disturbingly obstructed!"
I would like to respond that way, yes. But instead I just grunt, nod vaguely, and mutter something under my breath about people getting and staying the hell out of my office. If someone wants to come in, hand me a 50-gallon vat of coffee, and then comment on the fog outside my window, they're more than welcome. If they also bring a cheese pastry, they can sit on my lap, play gently with my hair, and watch the fog roil about all day if they so desire.
I guess I can't deny the pulse-pounding excitement that can come from the occurrence of weather that is windless, silent, and rather on the moist-ish side. The good news is that the fog seems to have lifted slightly in the past 30 minutes, so the parking lot is much more visible. Breathe easy, co-workers mine.
And…yeah, I guess I can't get away from this entry without a Valentine's Day reference. So, here it is:
Forces of the Universe, please deliver me from adrenaline-pumped seven-year-olds wielding cards and sugar-frosted cookies. Amen.
Oh. And one more thing. You know what sucks? Razor burn.
That is all.
10:22 a.m. - 2003-02-14
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