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Everybody in my immediate family, and large parts of my extended family, are voracious readers. Every time we get together, the living room looks a bit like a library sale because we almost always end up in a three-way book swap. So I came home from Thanksgiving with My Name Is Red, which I had started three times over the last couple of years and never actually gotten around to borrowing. It's a murder mystery mixed up with a love story mixed up with Islamic Turkish philosophy mixed up with Renaissance-era art theory, and it's interesting, but the plot drags a bit.
In the mail this afternoon I got the Enormous Envelope of Benefits Forms, so now I have to figure them out, fill them out and send them back. I guess this means they haven't changed their minds about hiring me since last week. (Not that they would, but forgive me a little paranoia.)
I was supposed to be doing something useful instead of writing this. I wonder what the useful thing in question was?
In the mail this afternoon I got the Enormous Envelope of Benefits Forms, so now I have to figure them out, fill them out and send them back. I guess this means they haven't changed their minds about hiring me since last week. (Not that they would, but forgive me a little paranoia.)
I was supposed to be doing something useful instead of writing this. I wonder what the useful thing in question was?
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