Dear Log,
When I worked at KAOS, we had a quirky employee named Bah. Subhenchwoman Bah was a strange sort. She always talked at the comfortable conversational tone of 90 decibels, like a bus engine with no oil in it. And speaking of oil, some oddity of endocrinology made her exude a strange grease from her human-like skin. Because of it, the mere thought of touching her workstation's track-ball or telephone was enough to make you squirm.
And no-one would go near Subhenchwoman Bah's work alcove because it was a rat's nest of sebaceous post-its, scribbled on in a script like something out of Lovecraft, and smeared. "10am 2/3 F'thnangkk upload", etc.
One time, me and Minion Rupa had to talk to Bah about some project she was working on. And whatever it was, at some point, I said "Hm, it'd probably be faster if you just restore it from an old backup I have somewhere." "Somewhere?" "Well, I have five or six backup CDROMs, each with tens of thousands of data files on them with no particular organization."
Subhenchwoman Bah seized on this, sensing some sort of vindication in her struggle against Minion Rupa's repeated criticism of Bah's messy alcove. She yipped at me: "Ah!!! AAAAAAH! SEEEEE, you have JUST as much clutter as I DOOOOOOOOO!"
I said quickly, "Yes, but my clutter isn't made of atoms."
At this, Minion Rupa broke into hysterical laughter. Bah was zinged. I just wanted a donut.
I'm glad I quit that whole freaky-deaky scene.
One day I will have that donut.
