Once again the full moon slinks away into the veiled night sky evoking gibberish out of my brain. For some reason I feel like approaching strangers on the street and asking them if they've seen my Gaboon Viper and then walking away laughing loudly knowing I haven't really lost a Gaboon Viper. I don't even have a Gaboon Viper. Put that in your Hookah and hork it.
See what I mean? I'm channeling Mr. T's jibba jabba.
This is not to say I really mind spouting mindless drivel. It beats small talk about washing my car or my job. Not that my job isn't interesting. The big excitment lately is a raccoon who has taken up residence in a small green space outside of our break room where people mainly go to smoke. They haven't been able to smoke out there since the raccoon moved in and he is pretty militant about cigarettes within 25 feet of him.
There used to be a crow's nest down in a tree in the green space next to the break room, too. But the raccoon apparently raided the nest and ate the baby crows (yes he ate crow) and then fell asleep in the nest.
I get this news vicariously through my staff who sit near windows overlooking the green space. I have an office with a window, but the window looks out on the hallway where people stare at me when they pass as if it was an exhibit at the Reptile House in the zoo. I keep the blinds pulled most of the time. But it doesn't shut out the chatter about the raccoon's movements. And by movements, I mean his or her moving from one place to the next in the green space next to the break room, not his or her's bodily functions. Though those will eventually involve crows as well I would imagine.
That was one classic digression.
Perhaps one day I'll string all of these pearls together and make a necklace.