Dropping like files
A plague has descended into Gotham City and they are dropping like flies. Here at Spy headquarters, all of the grownups have been sick and pathetic for days. Today was my first day back out in the world. I returned to an office that sounded like a tubercular ward — a half-empty tubercular ward. Those that remain are dragging around mugs of tea and keeping kleenex in their sleeves. It’s a zombie film in the making.
Mysteriously, despite two days working from the confines of my bed, I have had one of the most productive work weeks in ages. I am thinking I should stop bothering to get dressed in the morning. I’m sure that would end well, aren’t you?
On the downside, I accidentally hit send instead of delete on a message today. Probably not critical, but I feel pretty stupid. I blame the Nyquil. On a related note, I accidentally typed the end of the first sentence above as “they are dropping like files,” which actually seems like a good metaphor, given the penchant for the stack of filing I cannot be bothered to do falls off the end of my desk for the umpteenth time, usually when one of my supervisors comes over to talk and accidentally sits on it.
I have a serious aversion to filing.