Nov 20 2015

Inexplicably, a bear.


My writing office is located in a reclaimed and renovated factory complex.   I’m up on the third floor, at the far end.  Several offices at the near end (as you enter) are inhabited by a billboard-advertising company.

I’m usually on site after hours when the building is entirely empty but for me.  But as I passed the conference room the other evening, I noticed this forlorn gentleman:

Possibly awaiting a meeting...

Possibly awaiting a meeting…

The billboarders often have odd bits of marketing material strewn about: stacks of pies in the communal fridge, crates of wine, random containers of candies.   For one whole week the entire building smelled of Atomic Fireballs, the candy of our childhood, if you’re of a certain age.

I can’t help wondering about the bear, however.  I hope they’re sending him to a good home!

Yes, I petted him. How could I not? He was very soft.

Yes, I petted him. How could I not? He is very soft.

In other news: I’m off from the day job all next week.  Since Sabine and I have no family in the States but each other, we don’t do a big holiday get-together in our home.  Sabine usually finds pals to mooch off  visit on T-Day, while I often head off to some Undisclosed Location, taking the opportunity to get far away from the Real World and focus on creative endeavors (or attempt to).

This year, however, I have My! Own! Office!   So, I’m just hanging here.    For the next 10 days,  I’m going to pretend I have no job but this one.   It will be lovely.

I hope your holiday is filled with pals and family and excellent feasts, and all the best sorts of conversation.   (Or quiet time alone with your muse, if that’s your plan…)


Where's the selfie-stick when you need it?

Where’s the selfie-stick when you need it?