Yesterday morning, after I’d gotten up early and stressed own self over adding polls to this here not-blog (good participation, by the way!), I got an email. “Can you knock this out this morning?” I wasn’t even at work yet, and already I was anxious. It’s this big, several-tabbed Excel document that I copy edit …

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I have to give a presentation today at work, so I’m distracted. But when I return to you, to your arms, where will hug in the dark of night, remind me to tell you about sitting next to The World’s Worst Person at the manicure place. Demonstrably, June

A few things. A few matters. Some housekeeping. Don’t you fucking hate people who say that? Is there anything you want to read less about than someone’s “housekeeping matters”? I mean, other than how little you want to hear the “let me back up” details. I didn’t get to go to my work Christmas party. …

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For years, we’ve been doing this project at work that is what you might call detailed. If you’re a proofreader or a copy editor, all three of you, it has everything that takes time. Names you need to check? Yes. Numbers? Yes. Details that’re listed in several places and they all must match? Yes. Fact-checking …

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I knew I was going to a party yesterday afternoon, so I planned my ensemble in my mind so that I could do my freelance work in peace. I showered, did my hair, put on my kabuki makeup

I'm just now forming the thought that all this time I've been feeding Steely Dan too much. I thought he was much younger, and those oh-so-easy-to-read instructions on his canned food said to feed him three times a day. But now he's seven months old, and I'll bet I don't have to feed him at …

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