Point of Agreement
Friday. Traditionally, when our company hosts a Christmas party, a group of us go off to a location of our choosing and have a party of our own. This was the plan for today, except, of course, I have this project I've been working on that runs late into the afternoon and this project, perhaps in conjunction with the bottle of sake I consumed last night, ultimately made me decide to go home and, well, vegetate. No sake this evening. No sir. No desire for sake, although the evening is young.
I realized today I'm due to go on vacation next Thursday, a drive up to Portland and then to Seattle for the family party. Time is passing quickly. I'd say too quickly, but everybody says too quickly. Information that doesn't contain any information, a phrase that always gets a nod of agreement. Where this is going, in a round about way, is there are things I need to get done before I leave except my head isn't really clear enough to figure out what they are right now, so I'll leave the heavy thinking for the weekend. I had the oil changed in the car earlier this week, Wednesday morning, I think, so that's not on the list, but I have this nagging feeling I have to write a bunch of checks or something and mail them somewhere. The thought of tracking down the last book of stamps I bought - somewhere in the desk in the bedroom with all the junk on top - is somehow too depressing to address. Is this the way with age? It all just floats away: the questions, the answers, any desire to figure it out? Stamps? You'll get to it one day except today's not the day, my bucko, here in Oakland?
Wouldn't surprise me.
A rare point of agreement.
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