Sniffer Update

Ya'll might recall Sniffer, he of the delicate consitution who is continously suffering from one ailment or another. When last we met Sniffer (several months ago), he was afflicted with a particularly nasty (even for him) post-nasal drip, resulting in the continuous sniffing and swallowing of nasal fluids. At its worst, the sniff frequency would approach 15 sniffs per minute, and my ears were in the direct path of the emanations, causing me to be forced to close my office door to block the annoying onslought.

In the months that followed, Sniffer continued to display an interesting series of body malfunctions, such as sneezing fits and barking coughs. But he just wouldn't die :)

At one point there was a lull for about a week with no symptoms. And then he found a new way to annoy me : he started playing music all day long from his cubicle. Previously I could hear music emanating from his work-space occasionally, but it was not troublesome. Well, except for once when he started cranking his subwoofer, but I soon put a stop to that. But now the music was going all day long, and it became annoying, much like the buzzing of a fly in a quiet room. You can tolerate such a noise if its duration is short - but using the example of the fly - at some point you realize that this !#$!# fly has been bugging you all day, and now it must die. You switch to combat mode, fly-swatter or rolled-up magazine in hand, and your sole purpose in life is to end the life of that pesky insect. Your senses become magnified as you stalk the fly, striking suddenly with lightning reflexes as it zips by, becoming infuriated by its ability to elude your most masterful death blows. But eventually you win, or the fly moves on to annoy another, which is essentially the same thing.

So I approached Sniffer in a diplomatic manner, explaining that I didn't mind the occasional dalliance in playing uplifting music to ehnance one's working spirits, but that it became tiresome to listen to over the long haul, and could he perhaps turn it down a notch ? He wrinkled his forehead and took on an expression of frustration and irritation, saying he had already turned down his subwoofer, now I wanted to deprive him of any music at all ? (BTW the music sucked, being just a non-stop monochromatic whine of top-40'ish guitar and screaming vocals). I mentioned the word 'headphones' at some point, hoping he would reach the logical conclusion from our brief conversation.

The very next day, I was singularly pleased to see a set of headphones perched on the noggin of our sickly Sniffer, and I thought "Well that's that". However the following day, the headphones were off and the annoying music continued to drift through my open door as before. The next day it got even more interesting, as when I get into the office in the morning, I see a package of some sort placed on my chair. Upon inspection, I see that it contains a 'Folding Sound Muffler' - a headphone-shaped device meant to be placed on the ears of someone who wishes to not destroy their hearing as they work in a noisy environment, such as around jet-engines at an airport. I feel the heat start to rise as I realize Sniffer has the nerve to think that I should be the one protecting myself from his very rude imposition. In my eyes (or ears), this is equivalent to someone saying they wish to smoke in the office, and then passing around gas-masks so others can insulate themselves from the harmful smoke. But Sniffer is not in the office yet, so he is spared my inflamed tirade. And when he does get in later, I have already decided not to make a big thing of it for the moment, and have tossed the offensive mufflers into a corner, where they still remain, untouched. But not.....forgotten. TBC

nordic beachball hockey

is what we played in the woods today. Thought it might make them more excited about skiing - didn't really work.

Elevator Dream

The Elevator descends lazily, the interior filled with diffuse white light and the background thrum of servos. It stops at every floor, passengers drifting back and forth through the opening, to the accompaniment of informational chimes. I wait patiently for the indicator to hit L. Suddenly a change in speed, and we are dropping too fast. Indicator is off the charts, and we are plunging to impossible depths, speed increasing all the time. Impact is imminent. I look over at the only other passenger, his face a frozen mask of terror. "We're dead" I say, in a deadpan voice devoid of emotion, and brace for impact. Each microsecond is an eternity, but still we plummet downwards at an ever accelerating pace. A faint voice breaks through my consciousness and profers the idea that perhaps this is just a dream. An unlikely scenario I think, and I continue to suffer the excrutiating wait for Death.