Shake, rattle and roll

I don’t have much for you guys today, I’m afraid, I’m too tired. There’s no funny anecdote attached to that. I just went to bed too late.

Also, I’m rattling. My shoes are old, and the right one has a hole in the bottom of the heel. Into which a small rock has insinuated itself. I cannot remove this from my heel. So it’s rattling around merrily. Every time I walk anywhere it rattles. Loudly. People are looking up from their desks in confusion as I pass. I’ve tried walking in a way that doesn’t rattle my heel, but I just end up looking like one of my legs is numb from the knee down. This is going to be an irritating day.

Talking of irritating, there’s a new guy working at the desk next to mine. Late fifties, dubious personal habits, really needs to introduce himself to the concept of salad, that sort of thing. So you know we’ve hit the ground running, here.

The fact that he works in an extremely dull and fairly useless part of the public service, and plays Solitaire all day, doesn’t stop him from trying to impress me. Not just me, of course, but I’m the nearest personable young woman around, so you know. Mostly me. So far he’s told me all about being a Crown prosecutor in Sydney, meeting various High Court judges and parliamentarians socially, and playing professional rugby in his youth.

I actually believe that last one. But only because rugby players tend to be gross and obnoxious.

(If you’re a rugby player, I apologise. But since I’m stringing together sentences of more than five words, I doubt you’ve got this far.)

And then yesterday he’s complaining about having to go to meetings, and that he keeps getting the run around, and, I don’t know, other stuff. It’s not like I was listening, obviously. Until he says, “It’s so hard getting a straight answer in this place. I thought the time I met the Ambassador for Korea was bad enough, but this…!”

Awesome.