The day calls me. It's balmy, it's sticky, and I'm waiting for Ig. For the course. For the grass and the clubs, the laurels of a ruined day off. I had to go to a meeting this morning. Not fun. It wasn't courteously planned. It wasn't coersion, it wasn't even torture. It was just plain wrong. Getting me up at six o'clock on my day off for a meeting forty miles away about how to sell cell phones. Don't need it, thank you. Don't care. Give me one of the donuts in the box. I'll munch it sarcastically while I pretend to be enthused. My manager made an important point to me on the way down, though. At least I got paid. So, now I'm at the compie, waiting for golf. Normally I'd be working. That's another thing. Shannon's day off is tomorrow.