Cthulhu egg coveting

Today is the last day on duty for a guy I've worked with and for for almost all the time I've been in my job. There's an almost palpable haze of down-ism hanging over the department today... this guy was the end of the line of a series of inventive, capable, decent management that has made it possible for us to do some really cool stuff over the years, and there's really no one to replace him. The finality of it really sinks in when you see his office... a big recycling cart loaded with thousands of pages of reports and documents that probably seemed important at one time, but now are largely irrelevant. Everything in them is old, everyone who wrote them or read them has retired, they don't mean anything except a hernia for the guy on the loading dock who has to dump the cart.

He did bestow a gift on me: a rubber stamp and what he admitted was a long-dried-out ink pad. The stamp contains the single word: BULLSHIT. He figured I was the best person to inherit that.

Of course, what I really covet is this thing we always called The Brain, this sort of brownish spaghetti-like plastic mess that apparently was a leftover of some plastic-injection-molding process, but which sort of ends up looking like some kind of Cthulhu egg.

Yeah.

Anyway, today is one of those days that can't be over fast enough but is of course dragging on. Tomorrow will start a different period here, and it'll feel different.

I am completely out of beef jerky already. Suzanne and I made another batch over the weekend and it's completely gone.