kvetching up

 Entry 1     8:42 a.m.  I am in my office. Many people around, all from my team, waiting for the staff meeting to start. I am excited to gtfo of here.  The commute took 45 minutes--I can do it in 10 on a Sunday.  I don't miss coming to the office. I am glad to see other human beings that I work with, IRL, however.  I showered, shaved and brushed my hair this morning, a chore I do less frequently at home since the advent of COVID-19 work from home mandates. I am surprised I could tame the wild shock of hair on my head given that the last time it was cut the leaves had not even started to change color, nor the night become so much longer that it was noticeable.  I am filled with a sense of dread today for what is coming. I looked at the horizon, filled with Seattle skyscrapers as I was driving in, and was struck by the indifference of the universe . Dansul Mortii, Guy Marchand, 1485. I think having our own danse macabre in the form of this canc...

 Entry 1 8:20 a.m. The Persistence of Memory. Dali, 1931. I am at my desk. At work. Not kidding. We are having an in-person staff meeting, or so I thought. I am the only one on the floor right now, 40 minutes early for the meeting. Checking the calendar, it says its a teams meeting, with no room attached. I was at the meeting when the interim director announced this would be an in-person meeting. He isn't the best at communicating, so if this changed, I can at least say I had a day at the office. Also, if it wasn't COVID, I could go check on Jenny, who is shortly to arrive at VM for chemotherapy. So, the in-person is now on the 29th. I remember the agreement now that I am sitting in my desk chair.  This is an off-day for me. I have been scattered like my mother would get at times since last night, when Abby didn't arrive home on time from her acting gig. Her phone went straight to VM. She didn't answer my texts. She is generally very prompt at arriving home on time. Eve...