Even The Sun Goes Down
The company I'm now working for moved this week to a much nicer location. 17th floor of a big building about 3 minutes' walk from the Kendall T station. It's a much nicer place than before, and doesn't require an hour of bus transfers to get there and back.
Right now, I'm the only one in the office. Everything is quiet except for the hum of the A. It's been sort of an irritating day, on a couple of levels, and I'm agitated in the back of my mind about things I need to be worried about - the future and the past. Right now, though, I'm in the present.
Theoretically, I should be calling customers. Instead I am mesmerized the sight of the setting sun over the river, through the huge plate-glass windows. I shouldn't be staring at it - I know it's bad for the eyes. I can tell because when I look back to see what I'm typing it takes a long time for me to be able to make out anything but the afterimage.
But it's worth it.
Right now, I'm the only one in the office. Everything is quiet except for the hum of the A. It's been sort of an irritating day, on a couple of levels, and I'm agitated in the back of my mind about things I need to be worried about - the future and the past. Right now, though, I'm in the present.
Theoretically, I should be calling customers. Instead I am mesmerized the sight of the setting sun over the river, through the huge plate-glass windows. I shouldn't be staring at it - I know it's bad for the eyes. I can tell because when I look back to see what I'm typing it takes a long time for me to be able to make out anything but the afterimage.
But it's worth it.