At times the routine deviates from the mean, but the deviation is merely another, less frequent cycle.
Today I stopped for gas. It was not an urgent need, as I still had one-third left in the tank.
There I stood, watching digital numbers accumulate to unreasonable heights when my bones sensed those unseen eyes upon me.
Predictably, the unsettling sensation was accompanied by that clicking and winding sound.
There were several busy people around the immediate area and a large volume of traffic was zooming by, flooding my ears with the noisy race for relevance, but I'm fairly certain, under the choking sound of commerce, that I heard that faint plastic toy clicking away. And I am quite confident that the busy people that I could see around the immediate area were not watching me.
Looking around, I noticed...
Nothing.
Nothing, save for the mass of involuntary actors, unwittingly following the script and playing their roles in the machine of progress.
Now with a full tank of gasoline it is relatively safe to say that I will, in fact, arrive to my place of business, albeit tardy, ready to buckle down and tackle a multitude of tasks. Sense of accomplishment, here I come.
Along the way, my progress was impeded by red lights exactly three times. Approximately two-thirds fewer stop lights and I would have arrived right on schedule. Upon my delayed arrival, I encountered an impromptu discussion (read: disagreement) with Coworker Mitch. Subtract two-thirds of the total argument to approach what I would consider to be a reasonable amount of time to discuss pointless things. I only have so much of my day to allocate to nonsense (approximately one-third) as I have technology to research, protocol to establish, falling televisions to watch out for, long term internal projects to manifest and above all else think up clever ways to differentiate two employees with the exact same name.
Fear not reader(s), I'll find time to jazz my hands, so long as I am not squashed by a large flat screen monitor first. I don't normally deploy hand jazzings at the workplace, but then again it's nice to mix things up from time to time.
I look around to be certain I'm not being watched by mysterious eyes, or by curious coworkers' eyes for that matter, and look up to avoid falling electronics.
Nothing.
The coast is clear and the office door closed. I stand up, do a mild stretch to shake off the sits and deploy my new favorite variety of Jazz Hands: "Oops, The Venetian Blinds On One Side of My Office Are Wide Open and My Fish Bowl of An Office Did Not Conceal My Private Hand Jazzing and I Got A Really Strange Look From Our Technical Systems Director - Jazz Hands."
It's a long name for a new variety of Jazz Hands, but fitting, I assure you. Three walls of my office are made of glass and fashioned with venetian blinds. I was exactly one-third shy of having the appropriate amount closed for proper concealment.
Sitting down, we both pretend that nothing occurred. And I closed the remainder of my venetian blinds.
Fear not reader(s), I'll find time to jazz my hands, so long as I am not squashed by a large flat screen monitor first. I don't normally deploy hand jazzings at the workplace, but then again it's nice to mix things up from time to time.
I look around to be certain I'm not being watched by mysterious eyes, or by curious coworkers' eyes for that matter, and look up to avoid falling electronics.
Nothing.
The coast is clear and the office door closed. I stand up, do a mild stretch to shake off the sits and deploy my new favorite variety of Jazz Hands: "Oops, The Venetian Blinds On One Side of My Office Are Wide Open and My Fish Bowl of An Office Did Not Conceal My Private Hand Jazzing and I Got A Really Strange Look From Our Technical Systems Director - Jazz Hands."
It's a long name for a new variety of Jazz Hands, but fitting, I assure you. Three walls of my office are made of glass and fashioned with venetian blinds. I was exactly one-third shy of having the appropriate amount closed for proper concealment.
Sitting down, we both pretend that nothing occurred. And I closed the remainder of my venetian blinds.
Day two-hundred and seventy-six complete.
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