spynotes ::
  December 13, 2006
I know that she is made of smoke

I have been in the throes of holiday card writing, a project I am undertaking not at my desk but at the bar. You would think that the shift in location would be inspired by the array of beautifully backlit alcoholic beverages, any one of which might aid me in writing to my great aunt Agnes twice removed whom I haven�t seen in seven years and who may or may not be totally insane. But in fact, the reason for the change is much more pedestrian. My office stinks.

The odor has been growing stronger over the last week or so. At first I thought it was the cat�s litterbox in the next room that was causing the problem. In the craziness of term-end grading, I wasn�t the best about cleaning up after Mrs. Stein. But her space has never been cleaner and still the smell grows fouler. I suspect a gift from Mrs. Stein lodged behind the desk or a decaying raccoon under the deck just outside the basement window next to my desk. In any case, I�m pretty sure it�s a sign that I shouldn�t be doing any real work, so I�ve taken it as dispensation to concentrate on other things for a few days. So I�ve been spending the afternoon writing cards and periodically shooing Mrs. Stein away from the tree, where she likes to loll extravagantly on the velvet tree skirt and attempt to devour all package ribbons.

Meanwhile, today�s mail brought a motherlode of holiday cheer, including a lovely card from lemming and a box addressed to AJ, which I believe is from cassie and her mom. Thanks, guys!

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