Today I performed my penultimate act at The Office. Regular Readers may be shocked to learn that my days of jammed copiers, botched filing, and general clerical mayhem have run their course, effectively drawing to a close an entire subplot here at Running With Letters. Readers may also find it fitting that I spent my second-to- last shift building an office blog. Endless days of editing, formatting, and jury-rigging an online newsletter using a program no one in the office really knows-- and is meant for designing print publications, anyway--ended poorly when the communications department feigned a near total lack of knowledge of our department and said they couldn’t possibly convert our humble file into html in less than 4-6 weeks.
Dr. S. lamented that there must be a better way—and let’s face it, when you’re talking about posting 6-month-old news online, there’s ALWAYS a better way—which led to what may be my first, last, and only bona fide good Office Idea—why not blog? So I spent an hour or so making attractive little posts out of all our newsletter items. From now on, the new Graduate Assistants will be able to post news, hot off the press, in seconds flat. Tomorrow I’ll type up some instructions on how to keep it rolling—passwords and the like—and just like that, my days as a Graduate Assistant will be over.
Which doesn’t mean we’ll be lacking in material here on this blog—just as The Office subplot draws to a close, an exciting new possibility may be waiting in the wings. It seems--in what could prove to be the world’s shortest job search-- that I may have stumbled upon a part-time Art Job at a most desirable locale! I almost hesitate to even mention it at this early stage, but it’s hard to avoid the topic as this post finds me surrounded by a heap of application-esque paperwork…
…second only in mass to the potted plants huddled in sad little clusters around my property, following a foliage-buying binge last weekend. These plants—several purchased in a mini-binge the previous weekend and already languishing—were to have been planted on Sunday afternoon. However, in an Uncharacteristically Responsible decision I opted to spend an hour typing research before going out for a long, sunny stretch of gardening which I saw extending into the evening hours.
Unfortunately for a sad group of limp limas, teetering tomatoes, and peaked peppers, this hour of so-called responsibility may prove fatal, as that single hour I spent typing represented the final moments of stable weather we Virginians last saw. The skies went suddenly black and poured with a vengeance. The sun re-emerged, then dissolved into torrential rain, dark skies, and odd mists, which have persisted in a loop of continuous Instability. We lost a full quarter hour of a particularly intense episode of House on Monday, as our local weather man gave a street by street breakdown of various apparitions of hail, wind, and potential tornado activity. The weather man eventually stopped talking, although I saw no change in atmospheric conditions that should have prompted an end to his newscast.
Which leaves us waiting, the plants and I, to see what comes with the sun, or wind, or mist tomorrow.