Pretty Emmy
A good day, a long lunch, only a few thoughts about the futility of existence. It is hard to think about the futility of existence over a bowl of Sukiyaki and a glass of Japanese beer. No intention of suggesting I'm picky here. Japanese beer, Irish beer, American beer. Sukiyaki, ham on rye, a burger with lettuce and pickles. You want as many arrows as possible in your quiver when you're fighting errant feelings of futility. One old techie and four young women (techies) idling over lunch for as long as we could before returning to the building and futility. Reality. Coming back to futility-reality on a Friday before a long weekend in Oakland.
Are we slipping here?
Slipping, yes. Another funky morning followed, however, by a clear headed afternoon. Yes, the usual ups and downs of the job, the narrow focus of the job, the day to day sameness of the job, but an otherwise excellent early exit, "ya'll have a good weekend", hello Emmy, who meets me now at the door each evening singing "What's for dinner! What's for dinner!"
Something in one of these small cans, here Emmy, something made out of old fish heads and unpronounceable chicken parts.
Goody! Goody! Goody!
Cats are easily pleased, but don't throw it back up on the rugs please, pretty Emmy.
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