Flotsam

So there I am, working industriously on the bound session laws, when I hear a…jingling.
I stop typing.
Yes, it is definitely a jingling–a merry, if slightly nerve-jangling, jingling. I listen for the tiny sound of reindeer hoof-steps…no, that’s not it, and it’s not even October, besides. The jingling is coming closer, growing louder, and I pop my head out of my office door. And what to my wondering eyes should appear…
I gasp, loudly, and pull my head back in.
A peasant skirt. With tiny bells along the bottom.
Now, I know what you are thinking. You are thinking “Oh, Alexa, leave the poor woman alone! Obviously she is a Belly Dancer, hired by one of your higher-ups for some sort of team-building exercise.”
But that is where you’re wrong, because I recognized this woman, and she is not a Belly Dancer, but rather an Editor. From Wisconsin, no less. Perhaps Wisconsin has a large Romanian community?
Well, I don’t care if it does, because my office is near the printers, and every 45 minutes for the rest of the day I will hear that jangling jingling.
Damn her. Damn her to Boho Hell.

In clinic news: I received my paper work from the office of the Fancy RE. The introductory letter contains a paragraph of the importance of having previous medical records transferred at least a week before your initial appointment. Why?

“This information is pertinent to us in order to provide the best possible care and for unnecessary repetitive testing.”

“Unnecessary repetitive testing”? Splendid! Really though, I applaud their candor.
Perhaps we can work something out—I will edit their materials for mistakes like the one above, and they will treat me for free.

And Mollywogger: I see your husband’s nerdiness and raise you my own:

The Nearly Fiance knows that Soup-at-Hand always makes me giggle. I can’t pick up one of Campbell’s cunningly designed microwaveable soup-cups without snickering unattractively. Last night I finally told him why.

“Well, you know Heidegger’s ‘Modes of Being,’ in ‘Being and Time’?”
“No,” says The Nearly, looking pained. “This is going to be really nerdy, isn’t it?”
“Just wait, wait! It’s funny, I promise.”
The Nearly looks unconvinced.
“So, Modes of Being. Well…there’s ‘Ready-to-Hand’, which is Zuhanden, and ‘Present-at-Hand’, which is Vorhanden.” I snort, “And now, apparently, Campbell’s has discovered another one! Soup-at-Hand! Zuppehanden!”
I am overcome by mirth.
The Nearly looks…Horrified.
I can see his mind forming two words:
Donor. Eggs.
Ah, well.