Truth. Justice. Minesweeper.

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

Dammit! No wonder this place has been unlivable the past few days.

I finally got to the bottom of the pile of reports and stuff on my desk. At the bottom of the pile was a tuna sandwich. I just about barfed all over the keyboard. Haven't been able to get anybody to confess to leaving it there, either.

Cruickshank had some kid in doing the fish every day. Whoever it was did a lousy job; the tanks are all junked up and five of 'em were doing the backstroke. It's going to take forever for me to get the office back to normal.

There's still one pile I haven't gone through--the packages that have arrived from Itzhak over the last couple of months. He must really be on a roll.

Tomorrow's going to be a big day. Apparently in my absence Greyghost has left about six costumes and other bits of gear scattered around the city and decided he'd rather wait for me to get back to Earth than go get them himself. Guess whose fault it'll be if anything's missing?

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