It's January. Why are people still bringing in cookies, pies, chocolates and other dubious quality, but chock full of sugar treats into work? Do they not know I have no willpower when the skies are grey and the rain comes and goes? Especially when I have to wordsmith, sweet-talk people into doing what I want, and generally keep red-tape boffins employed by doing what they've been hired to do, but which they quickly subsume into manage/administer/regulate rather than actually do?


Must. Remember that I have the willpower to resist, and also that food, especially those made of flour, butter and sugar, is not (take your pick from following list):

  • an accomplishment in one's personal and work life
  • a new nexus phone
  • a cardiovascular work out
  • a state of zen
  • a sleeping aid
  • a reading aid
  • a state of love
  • fulfilling your parents' admonitions of "waste not, want not"
  • a published paper, abstract or otherwise erudite academic achievement
  • a shiny new gadget other than a new nexus phone
  • a state of contentment with anything
  • a way of feeling like you've done your laundry
  • sex
  • an obligatory accompaniment to coffee
  • a way to erase wrinkles by fattening up your face
  • a substitute for rogaine or other hair growing cream/foam/liquid
  • a stress reliever

In other news, the past weekend started grey and wet so I slept on Saturday only stirring myself to attend a dinner where there were three lively Mademoiselles who were articulate, funny and irreverent. Then on Sunday, the three taps on my N5 roused me to breakfast - first at Jethro's then at Joe's, then at home. The volume of coffee drunk was not to be believed. Then a quick meet up with JM to exchange some stuff, then I was made to feel guilty because I was told that without my participation in some random display of silliness, there would be spiraling, and who am I to be an inducer of spirals? Not Balanchine, that's for sure. So I went and was silly and random and it was very funny perplexing BM who was around and trying very hard to be serious. Silly BM - to be serious when one was being silly. Then more silliness including a deluge of cold water over one's head at C's before heading home to do laundry as a means of rattling the cage of they who are sensitive.

Such silliness is sublime under the right circumstances and in the right company. But it has to be in the moment and random, not codified nor planned in advance. Because we didn't plan to be silly, it just happened. That's it. Yawn. Must go be erudite now.