warning labelI’m sure there are still some blue tongues at the office today – although i haven’t interrogated anyone about it to confirm – and i have already seen some of the pictures circulating of us all from saturday, dressed to the nines in black, red and gold, sipping martinis dyed to company-logo-blue and clanking our glasses together in merriment. One of the best company christmas parties i’ve been to, themed after Casino Royale, replete with tuxedo-clad dealers, high-stakes betting into the multi-million-monopoly-dollar range (with a percentage of winnings destined for the high-roller’s charity of choice) and a c-note’s worth of engineers, developers, and sales and support personalities nearly unrecognizable in their previously-unseen glamour and panache. The only let-down was being sent home so early, likely at the bequest of corporate attorneys with visions of liability lawsuits dancing in their heads. Today, back to the grind, the weekend’s festive binge has passed the torch to the weekdays’chemical crutch and the return to denim, repetitive stress syndrome and radiation-emitting portable electronics is energetically complete.

My garage door remains immobilized today, deprived of its one remaining tensioner spring on saturday morning so the garage door gnomes can use it as a paradigm from which to fashion two fresh ones. Those gnomes called me today, or rather dispatched their human female receptionist to do so, in order to request the weight of my garage door. The weight of my garage door. As though i had recently held it in one hand, and a 10-lb sack of flour in the other, and estimated that “this hand weighs about twice as much as that hand.” She helpfully suggested i place a bathroom scale on the garage floor and lower the door onto it, so i suppose i shall have to stop at target tonight and purchase a bathroom scale in order to weigh my garage door. I’m sure i’ll find thousands of amusing uses for a bathroom scale once i’m in possession of one, the least of which will involve finding a place to store it in my already-overcrowded 4-square-foot bathroom. I supposed it also wouldn’t hurt to weigh myself at least once, as the weight on my driver’s license probably hasn’t been updated since it was issued in 1994.

John was released from the hospital yesterday afternoon and is home on Vashon now, likely alternating between sleeping and driving his mother crazy with sarcastic answers to valid medical questions. I stopped at the hospital yesterday morning on my way to the gym but he was sleeping soundly so i read the two pages of comics from his sunday times and departed as stealthily as i had come. I did not, in fact, make it to the gym afterward as all the other cheap bastards visiting downtown on a sunday morning had scarfed up the entire allotment of free street parking and the municipal tower garage was either closed, non-functioning or woefully understaffed, with no amount of punishment levied at the “print ticket” button able to remedy the infuriating situation. After several dozen maddening circles in a steadily larger radius around the building, i had my fill of the whole ordeal and bitterly headed home, begrudging the gym, the muni tower garage and the “consul-only” parking spaces with their deceptive emptiness that resulted only in cruel, exclusionary condescension. Still annoyed (and possibly tired and lazy, as well) i didn’t go to the gym this morning either. That’ll show them.