From there, I went right to my office, where I sent out the following two tweets over several hours:
|I have so much on my plate today that it's turned into a platter. #WorkWork #VolunteerWork #GettingPublishedWork|
I did my volunteer work first, which consisted of sending out a reminder e-mail to the board of Manbites Dog Theater about finalizing help needed for the opening of The Italian Actress later this week, and requesting agenda items for our next board meeting, which is a week from tomorrow. I also updated our Board Meetings Management web page.
My getting published work involved writing an article that I hope to have published in the next edition of the NC State student chapter of the Society for Technical Communication, writing a letter to their editor, and suggesting some technical communication- / writer-type humor to include in the next edition as well.
|#VolunteerWork ✔ #GettingPublishedWork ✔ A walk in the Rose Garden in this beautiful weather and a late lunch before starting #WorkWork.|
The Raleigh Little Theater, along with its outdoor amphitheater and nearby rose garden is a block away from my office. I walked over there, where I both literally and figuratively stopped to smell the roses.
It was idyllically peaceful there, with small pods of people sparsely planted about, usually in groups of two, usually of the male-female couple variety. I passed a young lady thriving with a laptop at a picnic table, and like a thorn in the side of tranquility, I asked, "Is there wireless access here?" to which she replied, "No."
I lay down on a bench under a walkway of trellised roses and just replenished myself for about twenty minutes—thinking about what a great life I have.
On the way back to my office, I swung by the Subway restaurant on Hillsborough Street, where a language impasse precluded me from finding out if what I wanted to order actually existed:
Being extremely skeptical, I ordered the footlong BMT, which was neither on the $5.00 footlong list nor on the 7 grams of fat list. Discuss.
"Tawk Amongst Ya-selves"
What it did say next to this sandwich on the menu board was: $6.00. "That'll be $5.44 with tax," the same gentleman said after removing his gloves and ringing up my order.
In the end, I think what he meant was, "I can make any sandwich $5.00." Now that's a little more believable.
My affirmation today was from an old friend who contacted me about being a reference for him in a career transition he is undertaking.
Ten hours after arriving at my office, I called it a night and dropped by Flex for a little scaryoke. It was absolutely dead in the place. I spent a little while talking with Jeffrey, the actor, and I played two games of pool with Ian.
Near the pool table, the door leading up to the smoker's patio was opened, and cigarette smoke was wafting its way down the stairs, so I thought, and closed the door.
However, after it was closed, the smell of cigarette smoke only got stronger, so my No Smoking Police nose went sniffing around—to find a young child of a thing sitting at a table trying to hide his cigarette by holding it under the table at which he was seated. Really, some people who smoke have absolutely no clue as to how obvious, not to mention nasty, cigarette smoke is.
I read him his rights not to smoke in the place, and he put it out on the floor. Nice. You walk on that floor, too?
I got there at 9:30, left at 10:30, stopped by the grocery store on the way home, and hard-boiled six eggs when I got home. I've had a great day.