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The buttercups are taking over the yard, and with the mower broken there is not much we can do about it. I borrowed a mower last week, but the rain has been relentless and things are growing faster than we can keep up. Our mower won't be fixed for a couple more weeks, by which time the buttercups may have swallowed the house. Being swallowed by a buttercup seems like a delightful way to die. A is for Amy who fell down the stairs, B is for Boris devoured by bears...
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Yesterday I received a rather sharp nudge at the end of the day when my VP asked me if I would be attending a goodbye event for a colleague and I said no, because I wanted to finish my scheduling before going home for the weekend. She said no, that the schedules would wait until Monday and that I should go and let her buy me a drink. I did. I have not had this sort of rapport with administration in the past where one would take interest in my work/life balance or where one would care enough to proffer a bribe. It is a bit out-on-a-limb-like to consort with the enemy this way, but my revelation this year has been that the enemy is human too, and not so much an enemy as a shepherd; the nipping can feel unpleasant but it is intended to keep us together and safe. (My view on this has been altered by having an office with a window.) I drank a Caesar that came with three olives. I wanted to drink six more of them (I didn't), and I did not regret leaving the schedules until Monday.
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