Ratboi
The last few days have been rather full.
I’m finally sitting down at the keys for a few minutes before I have to hurry home to host dinner.
Host dinner!
Historically, we have not been a household that hosts dinner. I’m committed to normalizing it for the time being. Perhaps for some families it’s such an ordinary occurrence that the phrase barely registers. For our household, however, hosting had, reportedly, felt less like hospitality and more like volunteering for public review.
There’s a bit more to say on that subject, but I’ll spare you...for now. Partly because I’d rather not wander too far into introspection, and partly because I’ve been forced to relocate. A remarkably vigorous young man in a navy suit has decided this is the precise moment to play ping pong table tennis on the seldom-used table directly behind me. I briefly considered staying put, but I don’t think anyone has ever successfully recalled the events of a weekend while a rally of that caliber was taking place behind their head.
Rats, even my strategic retreat was interrupted.
This day rather got away from me.
My daughter had morning lessons, after which I made what, in hindsight, was a questionable decision to bike to the office. Not because I object to cycling. Rather because the weather objects to me.
Once at the office we held our annual town hall, where we gathered to discuss our abysmal performance on “The Street.” Evidently, we are not a status quo company, according to New York. I have no reason to doubt them. The grand finale of the several-hour meeting was the unveiling of our newest advertising campaign. Hamptons looked straight-to-camera and said, “We are going to big-deal this campaign. Data has shown increase in tennis consumption with regard to those clients with a responsible-mindset™, so we are buying more ad time leading up to the US Open.”
I’m not entirely sure what “tennis consumption” entails. Watching tennis? Sharing tennis content? Thinking about tennis while making responsible financial decisions? Still, I think I might enjoy trying to use “big-deal” as a verb this week.
Anyway, the weekend probably deserves a proper telling, and if it has to be this medium, then it will have to wait a little longer.
For now, I’m off to see whether FunDip has finally succeeded in painting over Ratboi’s latest tag on the overpass. Their ongoing territorial spraying dispute has become one of the commute's more compelling serialized dramas. Ratboi is the artist in residence. Yet, every couple of days another layer of paint appears as another artist politely informs him that this particular girder, in fact, belongs to them.