To the edge. Edge of week in, that is. Gym week is over so this morning after arising and abluting I set out for the park for a constitutional. As seems to now be the mode on Freya’s day, the parking lot was full of young suburban women’s motorcars, monstrous to hulking SUVs that today, with a fog emerging, loomed like the aliens in a C SF movie.
Are there any more A SF movies? I cannot recall any in the last few years.
Anyway, the walk was fair. Accompanying the aerosols was an absence of wind, else the optical barrier would like not have formed. The wee particles of water encapsulated dust and microbes would have collided and their numbers diminished below the perceivable. But the absence of wind made for a warm walk, and a fast one, relatively speaking, and hence I was one starting-to-ache ORF when I finished.
The podcast is the start of an episode of “The Pen Addict” [Link] which has moved to new quarters but still suffers the same grammar egregiousness and has added a rather nasty problem with the naming of the podcast episodes. Magnetic inductance force mentioned this to me and I have discovered it is rather a nuisance of the second water. Not as bad as recalling the times for medicine doses but requiring continued modification to keep from losing information.
Speaking of losing, I ran across a cartoon [Link]
over the last weekend and my attention span finally returned to it.
I should remark that I did carry a knapsack (Army surplus) in my grammar schule days but by the time I was in high schule I had switched to a briefcase. And I continued to carry a briefcase through my working years. Only recently have I ceased except when I am on a gallop or such and need to take along more than I want to keep up with unbundled.
But the behavior of note is the same. Briefcases (and packs) do accumulate gibble. I was recently going through a messenger bag that I received as a gimme for attending some conference, which I attended for social reasons – to show that the Yankee army was a supporter of the discipline – and discovered several other gimme items and notes from the conference that I had mentally (and physically) misplaced.
Perhaps I should also remark that the obvious nonsense about having more stuff in the bag than its exterior volume reminds me of one of Robert Heinlein’s later novels, whose title eludes me at the moment. There is something about a structure that is larger on the inside than the outside that evokes mystery and not a little evil.
Briefcases, on the other hand, can be quite good, and even serve as an effective anti-mugger device.