Monday, February 28, 2005

What happened to our discussion on Friday? I must’ve tossed it out the window while driving to work, gentle reader, and it landed near the side of the road where, by my estimation, it probably exploded. The same thing nearly happened to today’s conversation, mostly because I have a pounding headache right now. We welcomed a colleague to our department this morning, all four of us, and at the close of the meeting we were asked to share sage words of advice.

“Go outside, dig a hole, and crawl into it,” I offered as my first tip.

I’m beginning to suspect this is the only option for Mondays, especially since the snow would’ve saved me the trouble of replacing the dirt. But then I wouldn’t have a chance to converse with you, would I? That would be a shame, of course, because today is a special day. This evening marks the end of an era, an age in which I write you every day after work.

A few weeks ago I subjected myself to some negative reinforcement for staying late. Well, no more. I’ve got the Internet now, which means I can talk to you at any time of the day. 8 PM. Maybe even 4 AM. The convenience is simply amazing, and I’m glad to have reclaimed it. Does this mean we’ll talk on weekends? Absolutely not.