Sideways Snow

A cold one tonight.  As the bus works from the highwayman, as AI ponders the McGarry job, as Al ponders Dan Bern, as S’s phone encourages the text and you ready the Frontier missive, as the first return to the Split Crow in years presents an old bartender and new Domus, as Amari evades tackles, as the worn shoes on the bus recall the Birkenstocks, as RR holds a no sale Black Friday, as the snow falls sideways in its most beautiful (photogenic as synonym? Yes!) fashion, as Carlsen and Caruana prepare the last two games in London...  as as as.

As the Associate quits.

Noooooo.

Or maybe...

Of course it is not good, in a sense.  But as you listen to yourself discuss the unlimited benefits and the lack of creativity in imagining the scope of opportunities and the ease at which such things can be pulled off, it does strike you.  Despite the malaise, how could you really trigger such conversations in the next year?  The AI point, what better situation are you looking for, work-wise.  And lifestyle-wise, will running away (again) help?  Or simply prolong the malaise?

Notable evening, after the conversation with her.  Wonder if you had just made sure about those Wimbledon tickets, or something else.  Too late.  Oh well.

For her maybe, but actually that surprising decision puts so much in a shifting light.  She, and the other flighters to NSP.  The lack of imagination and time away in their changes.  Putting your own situation in context.  Your freedom in a magic hue.  To think of Arch not having a day off since the return in May...

And the stocks falling always reminding that all that loss is easily made up by staying additional months, which don’t need much by way of work.  How easy the work seemed to come, after, as you waited.

Thrown for a loop, I am.  Thinking back to yesterday, the knap’s Nineteen Hundred and Eighty Five.  How important that sail is next summer.  Maybe I’m ready to wake up a bit.  Heh.