(A) Why do some people not know how to shake hands? Yesterday when I met Bess's daughter (a woman in her thirties who looked pregnant but I'm somehow sure was not) and she extended a limp hand to me as if it were a dirty Kleenex. What does such a person expect me to do with this bag of flesh she's dangling at the end of her arm? Kiss it? And what happens when two non-handshaking people meet? Do they sort of nudge the hands together until the fingers brush against each other?
(B) I spent all day packing. Or rather, not packing. I'm packed now, except for my razor and toothbrush, but I'm just not excited about leaving. Maybe it's because I'm starting to despise long plane rides and I have to go through Atlanta to get to Las Vegas. I'll be sleeping most of the way, though, as I have to be up in five and a half hours and I haven't taken a shower yet. No exercise for me tonight. No words either. At least, none written down. Lots verbal, including those I hurled after a tank top I had just taken from the dryer and was folding only to discover that not only didn't the stain come out, it's sprouted an inexplicable bleach spot.
(C) Back on (A). Bess was still at work at about six because my/Maggie's paper wasn't converting to PDF and she was trying to fix it. I was there with her because it was my paper and I felt guilty and figured misery would like company. When Bess's daughter came in she said to me, "You must have no life if you're still here at six." I told her it was my paper and she said "Oh," but I wish I'd said something clever and sarcastic instead. On the other hand, that was probably just her attempt at being friendly and sociable. Do I sound like that when I'm trying to be friendly and sociable?
(D) Back on (B). I'm going to Las Vegas! I'm going to see my family! I'm going to be away from work! I'm going to troop around in 102-degree weather! Except for that last one, I may not be excited about leaving but I'm excited about getting there.