Some May Call This Mid Week

The rain comes down, tinkle, tinkle, forming beads of moisture on my glass roof. My view of the world gradually becomes more and more opaque as the morning grows old. (A metaphor on life really, now isn't it) The door to my study looks out to my atrium greenery, which is nice, but it makes my study much more susceptible to the change in temperature. It is colder today, I can feel it. I have thick socks on, thick and woolley. (truthfully, they are Explorer socks, which I don't think have much wool in them) I could, of course, close the door, but that shuts out more of the world than I wish to shut out.

It is nearly lunch time, I can tell, as my stomach is beginning to tell me so. 

Those fools at work have pretty much left me alone today. Everyone is an idiot, except me, of course. Actually, no one in my department is an idiot, except, of course, The Idiot, but she plays on it, defines herself by it, and that is what makes her funny. It's her shtick. Of course, she isn't really an idiot. 

Everyone else is efficient, focussed and capable. A sea of accountants in the ocean of law. The cold efficiency of figures against the ruthless legal argument. And then there is me, the black sheep of the... no, I can't admit to it, not more than once a year... account... accc... counting... ant... oh gee, why didn't I study literature and history and art at university, I ask myself often. Creative writing, philosophy? Oh, how I'd like to go back to my 21 year old self and just slap his face. Thwack! "You idiot!"

(Oh, could you imagine? Coming steaming across the quad, there he would be, that stupid 20 year old. Just walk straight up to him. Face to face. Eyeball him. He'd look quizzical, but deep down some where he'd know, I mean, he is still really smart under all that somewhere? Then just hall off and clobber him one. "What the fuck?" I'd pay money to be sitting on a seat nearby with a box of pop corn. Of course, that would mean 3 of me and I'd fear for the space time continuum, but, you know, whatever...)

We are having pies for lunch. I can now smell them cooking in the oven. Big sniff. Not bad, I think, even if they are just a couple of Four 'N Twenties.

The rain is still falling.

And despite the rain it is quite a gentle morning.

And then The Midget emails me updated procedures for my work process and I just want to stab my eyes out with sharp pencils.

I'm sure she starts fingering herself the moment she gets new procedures to write.

She has reviewed all procedures and she has found some misalignments to our work flows and current process and here is her bullet point review to bring the process into alignment with... blah, blah, blah... blah, blah, blah... blah, blah, blah.... oh please universe kill me now!