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Escape from Alcatraz
Prison or office, it’s pretty much all the same.
I haven’t felt great for the last few weeks, and it’s amazing how the less you do, the less you want to do.
Mostly, I want to read and sleep. Everybody keeps talking about Succession, so that’s on the list, too. And in between, I pester my gastroenterologist and cycle through tests like they’re the stations of the cross.
“And this is where Jesus had a CT scan.”
My boss does this weird thing where if I’m trying to leave the office, he starts asking me questions. Every single time. It doesn’t matter if I have an appointment, or I’m leaving for the day, or I just have to run errands. The second I say I’m leaving, he thinks of something to ask me.
I was trying to leave today around 6:00 because a storm was coming. I said I wanted to try to beat the storm, implying obvious (to my mind, at least) urgency and the need for speed.
He started asking me about subpoenas.
I yelled answers across the waiting room that separates our offices while I got my raincoat on and dressed the dog. Her raincoat tends to cover her eyes, so I essentially become her seeing-eye human unless I remember to fold back the hood.
