I have so much going on right now, most of it good but my brain is pulling a French labor union, it wants a 35 hour work week. I was in an nameless, faceless office building today (not my employer's thank god) the size of a football field. I'm just tall enough to see over the cubicles and I was half expecting to bump into Dilbert or Lumbergh, didn't spot any red swinglines. A guy was sitting in his cube, moderately pudgy, leaning back far enough that he could operate his mouse but not his keyboard. He looked like the guy in Alien who was still alive but condemned to an agonizing death by a parasitic creature. Maybe he had the pinkslip virus.