Lessee . . . running late (as usual) this cloudy morning, I realized when I got to the T station that I’d forgotten my keys and T pass. Ordinarily, I’d have bought tokens for today, but since D has rehearsal and won’t be home until late tonight, I had to turn back home for my keys. Half an hour late for work (which is to say, an hour late, officially).

It started raining just as I emerged from Kendall Station. At least my umbrella was nice and dry, tucked into my bookshelf at work. Don’t think I could have begun the workday more disheveled if I tried.

So then it was work work work work work work work and deal with complaints by pretty much every single employee at my company (and some who I think work for other companies but are pretending to work here so they can harrass me). Wet clothes and hair + air conditioning = brrr. Then, and this was nice, my boss asked if I wanted to join her down in the courtyard for the annual cookout our office park holds for tenants (virgin daiquiris, burgers and dogs, Zipcar representatives handing out coupons, fake palm trees, a dreadful steel drum ensemble), where she was meeting a friend. I was kind of craving a hamburger, but by the time the line got to the buffet area, the burgers were gone daddy gone.

Then work work work work work work work work and as 5:30 approached, I got a slew of things that had to be dealt with today. Upshot: no chance of seeing Steve Almond and Kelly Link do their reading thing at Harvard Book Store. Which I had been looking forward to for weeks. And also? Wah!

So, once home, I consoled myself with Daniel Clowes. Woodring went out and bought me a new copy of Twentieth Century Eightball, my old version of which he may or may not have misplaced. That Woodring (NR to Jim, far as I know) is a fine egg.