I begrudgingly found myself placing my thoughts into a cloud bank this a.m. while tapping a pencil peacefully on a wooden desk that should have stayed a tree long ago. Slightly under the weather feeling truly hung out to dry whilst cramming an assortment of personal been there done that’s into a flimsy Styrofoam box provided by management. Novelty items collected from conferences over the years to remind me not necessarily of the vendors who hawked them but to keep my head low, opinions private and never forget casual Fridays are not that casual.  Rolling the now un-held pencil back and forth between two imaginary goal posts my thoughts ran rampant through the last several years. For no apparent reason a late-night snowstorm some years henceforth came to mind where hail, ice and wind battered the windows behind me: thinking I would never make it home on the interstate that night. All because a report had to be in by eight in the morning. One so important that now I could not recall what it was for. Remembrances of a dozen or so odd collections of retirements, deaths, birthday cakes and getting the ax fare thee wells of others and of course the never ever popular conference meetings at two on a Friday afternoon that went on longer than the Nile during the flood season. Sitting there standing on a body of better than average work I caught a bird fly by the window. That fast I thought. That fast my time here. That fast my time gone. That fast and done. A dozen quiet taps on the shoulders by fellow gang plank walkers completing similar task exiting out of the office one by one set the mood. The mass was over; amen get out and so I did.