Socks in the dryer

Today's early morning was like an overturned gray-blue teacup. Fog and a mist the consistency of atomized perfume.

Across the interstate, swerve to that Scottish place for the customary, turn onto the frontage road, park under a pine, plod up the walk, down the steps, unlock the door to my "specious" window less, basement office. Say "morning" to the blind cavefish. Does atrophy due to lack of sunlight come under workers' comp?

Again, trying to remember the details of morning web paging brings amnesia. Something to do with updating a googol of files. A rare moment of diversion with a call to a friend. Quick, sly, idle gossip.

LUNCH! Nutrition! Edibles! Grub!

No deli today. Go sushi bar. As usual, place packed. One and only one slot available at the bar. Sit next to business type A trying to convince business type B to move to another city. Diners on other side left in a few minutes to be replaced by another matched set of business types (C and D) who proceed to check stock quotes on pager every few nanoseconds. Business types A and B replaced by office workers E and F whose chatter was devoted to the evils of artificial sweeteners.

As yesterday, I was able to continue reading "Wired." Article on Jeff Bezos, founder of Amazon.com. Not nearly as funny as yesterday's on "The Onion." However, the dim light caused me to misread things. "Bezos has been characterized as yet another fuzzy-cheeked geek who lucked into an IPO" came out with the "l" of lucked blurred into an "f." Actually that did seem to make some perverted sense.

Afternoon? The morning dementia obviously crept over into the afternoon. FTP! Telenet! FTP! Telenet! FTP! Telenet! Ahhhh, the webmister's mantra.

At home, I'm still finding socks from yesterday's redistribution by the felines. The sock caper made me think of socks and dryers. Then I had this weird image of a revised ending for "Close Encounters of the Third Kind." The aliens have finished returning all the lost flyers, passengers and other abductees, when a chubby ET runs from the back with a large covered wicker basket and plops it onto the pavement. As the aliens depart, someone slips forward, snaps off the cover only to find - socks! Millions and millions of socks that have "disappeared" into the dryer.

PAX!