on the group w bench...)
I just got home from work, and I've changed into my comfy clothes. Today's comfy clothes = a pair of Patrick's sweats from Old Navy that I bought for him but wear more often than he does. They're perfect; way too big for me but so what; my very old EuroDisney sweatshirt, also too big for me, over a t-shirt; and some cozy socks.
Oh, I am tired.
Last week was the flute choir concert, and it was a success, all three times we performed. We had our regular concert on the last night of class, then this past Saturday, we went out to LAMP Village in downtown LA and played there. There were some lovely people there; one of them, a man named Robin, stood up and led the singing when we did our traditional "sing-along." He was very nice, and sang well, and I think they enjoyed all of our flutes. After that we played at the retirement home, and that was nice, in a different way.
It was a fine weekend, but busy, and way too short. I'm beginning to look forward to January, when I have nothing to do.
Because I've been a terrible blogger this week, I thought I'd revert to my old tricks and post a somewhat amusing email to my friend Paul. Because apparently he brings out the writer in me?
I don't know, maybe he does.
This message edited for public consumption.
...
Hey, Paul,
No goddamn internet at work sucks big time. I just thought you'd like to know that. I'm busy, though, so checking my g-mail and sending the evite for the Rizzoli Bash Version 2007 (which I was supposed to do this weekend, oops) would probably not be a very productive use of my time. This email to you however is serving a very important function, i.e., moving at least one part of my body. My hands, are they one part or two? Or ten? I'm tired, man. I'm feeling a little woozy, actually. That can't be good.
So I'm discovering that my new co-workers possess the computer literacy skills of, I don't know, a room full of zygotes. I'd say "infants" but infants are more technically adept than some of these people. And gametes, well, everyone knows gametes don't know their heads from their tails.
How are you? Feeling better?
Be well,
Irene
P.S. Our ISO offices just contacted me with my Internet password. Timing really is everything.
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