My African violet is blooming again.

In other news, I lost my wallet under a piece of paper for a whole week.  I even called the grocery store looking for it, and used my passport to take cash out of my paycheck so that I could pay for things.  Then, I left that envelope of money on my desk when I left work Friday evening, and didn’t realize until it came time to pay for my all-you-can-eat sushi plate.  I’m amazing.

After sushi, the move Wristcutters: A Love Story, and returning to the office to recover my monies, an old man in a nice coat offered me a ride in his taxi cab.  A half hour later when the bus still  hadn’t come, I wished I hadn’t declined.

We have three days of training coming up and I’ll get to meet my coworkers in the Boston office, put faces to emails and voices on the phone.  One will hopefully arrive on my doorstep in a few hours. We’re having the training in an anarchist space, and have planned both a bowling outing and group lasagna cooking.  Should be a pleasant diversion from project work until Thursday when we will all have to deal with the consequences of three days of not working on projects.
There’s nothing like the combined need to make a good first impression, and the potential judgment of a coworker to motivate house cleaning.  I love the satisfaction of a clean house; too bad it never stays that way.


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