tonight the baron's brain is foggy. she received some bad news about a man she kind of knows, an acquaintance. he was traveling abroad, took ill, went to the hospital, and died. this is exactly how the news was related to her, short on details but heavy on certainty and reality. the baron thought of this man, who she'll call lecturer, as an SOB - a salty old bastard, usually attired in jeans, white sneakers, suspenders, and a plaid patterned shirt. lecturer parted his hair deep on the left side and smelled vaguely of stale, smoked cigarettes. lecturer and the baron didn't talk much about their personal lives, but they talked about books and movies, and if ever lecturer had cherries to share, he shared them with her. in short, he was a delight, a gentleman and a scholar, and the baron thinks that the halls of her college will be less rich for his passing. she liked him, and be assured reader - the baron doesn't like many.
the husband's terrible, terrible day is turning into a terrible, terrible night. he works in public affairs for an unpopular government agency. said agency has apparently been mismanaging its 'just in case' oil tankers and the shit is about to hit, but good. because someone upstairs really gets schadenfreude, the husband is on-call this week, which means that all press calls go to him. which means that, after someone foolishly sent an internal memo detailing the locations of these tankers to the press, the calls from said press are coming hot and heavy to the husband.
but. he's a hardy fellow and has sprung into superhero mode. recognizing that the baron had a pretty shitty day herself, he managed the press calls, managed his conference call, and ordered a pizza so she wouldn't have to cook. all at the same time. lightening each other's load? that, reader, is love.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
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