Wednesday, June 14, 2000
It's 8am and my girlfriend is sitting across the room from me, speaking to
someone on the phone about getting some rubber mats for our horse stalls.
She's got a note pad perched on her crossed legs, is twirling a pen in her
mouth, and has a phone pressed to her ear. Other than that, she's nude.
(She was in bed talking on the chordless when the battery died and she had
to sprint across the house to the other phone.) I'm just reflecting that
I have always hoped to have a secretary like her. It's especially cool
that the person to whom she is talking in a businesslike tone has no clue.