I just discovered that I can see the prudential center from the printer. I'm not sure why this pleases me, but it does. Perhaps the thought that I could in theory see my printer from the Prudential center. My best guess, though, is that getting up at 6am and going over to pick up fresh bagels from the local H & H depot for breakfast, served with vulcanized eggs, has cheered me up, so the world, right down to the humblest printer, seems brighter and better than when I loll about.

Oh, and recumbent bicycles don't fit in bike lockers. Just so you're aware. I was actually completely unaware that my building featured bike lockers in the parking lot, until, one day last week when feeling vaguely sullen, resentful, and balking at the notion of bungeeing the laptop to the bicycle, I drove in to work, and parked next to them. For those that are unaware, they are steel boxes, generally beige, and full of dead leaves, that keep bikes out of the rain and stop bypassers making off with the accessories. This morning, being, as I said, full of goodwill, and vaguely remembering something about thunderstorms, I decided to give them a try. Unfortunately, they are triangular in shape, and neither the backrest nor the handlebars cared to go in first.

Bungeeing the laptop to the bike would be easier if I had another bungee cord of the correct length. Bungee cords that are a few inches too short are a significant cause of grief for me. But if I buy any more bungee cords, they will take over the utility closet. Bungee cords strike me as somehow malevolent. They have an unfortunate habit of clinging. They are positively sticky, and, in mass, are positively hostile. They form colonies. _
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