Meanwhile, Back In The Office
The soft ping of notify.wav rouses E@L from dreams of mordant retribution for all the times he'd been out-remembered by someone in a conversational test of obscure trivia, or fuddled up some lame-arse joke, or got the names wrong in an important personal introduction ("Mum, this is my new girlfriend Rachel… err, I mean Suzanna. Rachel, of course, was my ex-girlfriend, whom I am totally over now, TOTALLY!, hardly even remember what she looked like, whether she had bite-mark tattoo on the soft warmth of her inner thigh or not, SO TOTALLY OH-VAH THAT BEATCH!...") , or got the Left and Right mixed up on a X-ray with severe surgical consequence for some soon-to-be-ex-sporting hero…
Oh, for a life without the small stabs of such deeply entrenched but ultimately minor regrets… The Devil's in the details, in one's quiet moments, yeah?
Ping. Email. Wah?
E@L squints out the window - blue sky, green water, the good ship "Leisure World" in dock, excavations continuing on Sentosa as tugs push a barge of former earth to regions unsighted in the Straits of Malacca… He clunks his neck into a less un-comfortable position and mops up his drool with a shirt-cuff.
Something from the boss in the Outlook "In-tray".
And, hey, a real envelope - also from the boss - in the real in-tray! Who put that there? Not the boss, surely - E@L looks sheepish, was he caught napping? - no, the boss is in India.
Wow, so much communication in one day! This requires a cup of cappuccino mix to comprehend...
Rip, pour, gurgle, stir, wait for chemical froth to accumulate, drizzle with chocolate…
Later. Sip. Sluurp. Ah! Lovely.
Now, wasn't there something about mail?
E@L opens the email.
It is a link to a Wiki on the Sony Timer - the mythical "clock" that causes Sony's gadgets to implode in the time period immediately post the expiration of the warranty. It's a major technological achievement of Sony and other companies to do this - it makes every gadget in the world a consumable, rather than a capital outlay. Different budget, OK! Explain it that way to the wifey, see how far it gets ya!
E@L's spoken about this a coupla times before. E@L probably was whingeing to the boss about some gadget disaster or other of his and had spoken of Sony Time to him.
OK, nothing too demanding there.
E@L opens the large envelope. And the winner is… E@L !
It is his pay notification. He sees the sum - exceptional! He checks the housing allowance - an increment has come through to cover the recent rental hike! E@L throws his metaphorical cap in the air and cries out silently, "Yee ha!"
He won’t be moving to Pungol or Changi after all… Excellent!
E@L blinks out the window. It has clouded over, threatening some rain. The "Leisure World" has departed (or sunk, he wasn't watching) as if to escape the coming storm. It is almost afternoon already. Time to take what's left of the day off to celebrate! (He worked Sat morning and most of Sunday and is due at least a day in lieu.)
E@L packs up his bag, puts his bag down, pulls out the book he is reading (Rose Tremain's Music and Silence) his iPod, and leaves the bag there - too heavy, and fuck it the rain is pouring now, he doesn't want it wet - and he heads off... maybe some golf at the driving range with Izzy if the rain clears or misses Bukit-Timah.
Finally: A commentator on the Olympic diving points requirement of one of the girls last night:
"She really needs a 69."
Stunned silence in E@LGHQ , until ---
"That about sums it up for me," says E@L ...
Much hilarity ensues, but sadly, no soixante-neuf...
[Addendum; the real reason E@L left the office early is that he had forgotten to take his medicine and his feet were killing him - he went home, took more painkillers and had a nap. Seriously, a bad foot day.]
OTHER MONKEYS SAID
I think I have heard that commentator running in my bedroom...
When the bedroom gymnastics are under way "She really needs a 69." Can be the score of the perfect performance.
"running" or sitting back watching?
I thought you might have been talking about womens beach volley ball. I saw a more than a few women in need of a "69"
Then again, there might be a big risk of getting your head crushed between a pair of thighs...................
I asked the lady for a "68."
"68?" she asked.
"Yeah, you give me a blow job and I'll owe you one."