I dream of my WIP turning into a fabulously popular series, possibly adapted for film, allowing us to go live in Sequim (it's the anti-Forks of the Olympic Peninsula--only 15 inches of rain per year). Unless I decided that was too rural and bought a house in Ballard or on Queen Anne Hill and a cottage on Whidbey Island for a getaway. And we'd travel to Europe a lot. Like, I'd be over there at least a month or two a year researching.
When I want to go really over the top, I dream of somehow achieving JK Rowling levels of success, in which case on top of everything else I'd buy the Mariners and provide them with intelligent management to fix the team.
I'd buy the Mariners and provide them with intelligent management to fix the team.
Which would involve scheduling more games against the Mets, I presume.
Now I want Susan to achieve JK Rowling levels of success.
Doesn't that give you license to MAKE you're co-workers do what they are supposed to?
Yeah--dude, somehow misunderstood me. I'm not used to one's duties being optional, so I guess the confusion was on me. Pfft.
Gee, I mainly dream of spending a week at the beach all by myself, with books and popsicles and lots of napping. I gotta learn to dream bigger.
Maybe I could get a lot of money, buy the Red Sox, and give them to my sister.
The blood feuds in Albania are serious shit, man. And they still go on - notice that she took pains to have her father's murderer killed 5 years ago, when he got out of jail, aged 80. It's like a little piece of the 19th century.
Which would involve scheduling more games against the Mets, I presume.
Yeah, that's working surprisingly well for us, though mostly I hope King Felix gets over his ankle injury from Monday quickly.
Someone just sent out an email asking for an spreadsheet to be extended so she can continue working in it. Bear in mind this involves copying nothing but a numbering sequence and formatting--I've met complex to extend spreadsheets and this isn't it. I can't imagine not being embarassed to send out a high importance email about it to six different people. And she's never once asked how to do it herself.
I guess when I think of myself as having no ambition I should put myself in context.
My Work Nemesis has, once again, sent me an email explicitly requesting that I do her job for her. The kicker is, I have to do it.