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I'm having fun at work.

I'm actually not doing check-in on the 30th, so provided I get out of work on time that day, I may actually be able to make the play after all! Hooray! I'm thinking the smartest thing to do is bring anything I'll need with me to work and just wait here, vs. slogging home and perhaps being late, which just would not do. Thoughts, easalle? (Work's near home; I can give you directions in a private e-mail.)

My instinct for "times when Figment needs a wake-up call" are getting better. I called him just before I zoomed out the door this morning. He'd been up for all of five minutes; his little black cat had licked him awake where the alarm clock failed.

Today I seated trystan_laryssa and dustraven's roommate/GM (he really needs a nickname) next to the Animator, for the fostering of social development. I have the latitude to do such things, though disruptive combinations of people are discouraged. (I need to avoid the Master of Misinformation whenever possible, the Pugilist needs to avoid the Master of Misinformation whenever possible, and othercat needs to avoid the Master of Misinformation whenever possible. There are several of us with problems with him. There are some of the older women who need to avoid each other lest catfights break out. There were a lot of people who really needed to avoid Mr. Bitter. Fortunately, he doesn't work here anymore. )

My good twin is being a phone goon today. We're trying not to be too obvious about being really close close friends at work, though we can't avoid letting on that we know each other and hang out.

I'm updating my emergency contact information sheet, and re-prioritizing, and adding a contact.

Rev. Nice Super is talking about stripper shoes, far too loudly. I am trying not to laugh too hard. I'm failing. Original Clone Name Super (a guy I haven't mentioned too much, just because we rarely work the same shift and he's fairly bland) was denying that he'd ever used the term "stripper shoes" to talk about the pirhana shoes; Rev. Nice Super was arguing this point at near the top of his lungs.

I've found a potential nickname for the skinny spiky-haired supervisor who was having the conversation about race, tan, and whether or not Superman Shirt Super got any cock. Since he has a foreign name, some of the less globally socialized staff and employees were having trouble remembering/pronouncing his name. Since he was probably tired of being called "hey, you," he picked a generic American Male Name to go by in the workplace as far as the majority of the phone goons were concerned. Unfortunately for the confusion factor, there's another supervisor already named that. So he should be Conflicting Clone Name Super.

Hooray for work, eh?
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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