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It's a Happy Halloween
Friday, October 31st, 2008 04:24 pmToday marks an Epic Event. For the first time since August 1997, I do not have a telephone in my office. I cannot express to you how GOOD this makes me feel. SRM Publisher calls will now ring in the new! exciting! and sexy! SRM Publisher Downtown Office. Just...wow.
This morning on my way to work, I needed to deliver Hexapuma to his good friend Sue for a quick shave and a haircut, which meant that I dressed in jeans, flannel shirt and my ten-bucks-from-Goodwill, perfectly-good-and-the-sleeves-are-long-enough wool black-and-white tweed men's topcoat. With my blue striped scarf. It was cold this morning. Sue took Hex in hand, and I continued onward to the day-job.
Once arrived, I walked down to the campus mailroom to pick up a poster proof (good thing, too. What in Ghod's Name was going on with that graphic, anyway?), detouring on my way back to my office through the campus deli (known, for reasons not at all clear to me, as The Spa), and ordered a small mocha from the nice lady dressed up as a pumpkin behind the counter.
"Don't you want a large one?" she asked.
"I do," I answered, "but my budget doesn't."
She nodded, rang in my money, and excused herself to petition the espresso machine. When the grinding and hissing and other noises attendant to the manufacture of a mocha had subsided, she handed me -- a large.
I looked at her. She grinned. "Well, I had to do something, with you all dressed up like a princess!"
This morning on my way to work, I needed to deliver Hexapuma to his good friend Sue for a quick shave and a haircut, which meant that I dressed in jeans, flannel shirt and my ten-bucks-from-Goodwill, perfectly-good-and-the-sleeves-are-long-enough wool black-and-white tweed men's topcoat. With my blue striped scarf. It was cold this morning. Sue took Hex in hand, and I continued onward to the day-job.
Once arrived, I walked down to the campus mailroom to pick up a poster proof (good thing, too. What in Ghod's Name was going on with that graphic, anyway?), detouring on my way back to my office through the campus deli (known, for reasons not at all clear to me, as The Spa), and ordered a small mocha from the nice lady dressed up as a pumpkin behind the counter.
"Don't you want a large one?" she asked.
"I do," I answered, "but my budget doesn't."
She nodded, rang in my money, and excused herself to petition the espresso machine. When the grinding and hissing and other noises attendant to the manufacture of a mocha had subsided, she handed me -- a large.
I looked at her. She grinned. "Well, I had to do something, with you all dressed up like a princess!"
