The Winter of our Disconnect.

Ayoy. These are indeed the dog days of December, when the work week is so fractured by the horde of Christmas festivities, that getting a productive head of steam never seems to happen. I know, I know... complaining about too many parties is a poor way to gain sympathy (although 27 Dec tends to bring a sigh of relief to many).

Here's the thing, though: conversations at the Greenhouse have... deteriorated somewhat. By this point, we're actively trying to say something stupider than the last person. For example, here's how it broke down today:

Opening gambit: "I'd like a different carpool. I feel like I'm trapped in my current one."

Challenger: "Hey, if you were driving with them through a mountain, and then there was a cave-in, that'd be carpool tunnel syndrome!"

Me: "And then their hands would explode! Right?"


Me: "What? You guys started it."

In my defense, ever since I saw the trailer for The Machine Girl, I haven't been able to think of anything but exploding body parts.

Such is the power of cinema.

Such is the power of December.

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Canadian explorer. Chemist by training, biologist by nature. Long-time supporter and participant in National Novel Writing Month. Known as "Aquadeo" in most Internet circles. Also known as "that guy with the pants" to people who have seen me in certain pants.