This Broken Festival.

They were playing Lush at the coffee house this morning and I can tell you that that is not in the ordinary. I have spent the better part of this morning examining and discovering the meaning of the word shaggard. Sunday brunch, marketing (the new guy at the Farmers Market freakshow that sells the bread is seriously as cute as a monkey petting a kitten), getting nothing productive done, went to an open house and considered living in a renovated sarcophagus (not likely at 1.5 million), found a new grocery shop called the Safeway. There is the usual mountain of emails and spreadsheets staring straight at my face. Didn't iron a single trouser or shirt over the weekend so I have that to look forward to when I get home. I have given up entirely trying to understand why the people at my work do the things they do and the manner in which they do them. The girls have clinched their post-season position and there is nothing else we are prepared to say on the subject at this time.