I cannot adequately explain my total deskside despondency. I don’t care. I just do not care. It’s all so facile, so arbitrary. I don’t know what I’m talking about and I’ve no interest in finding out. This isn’t me yet it takes up, or wastes, so very much of my life. There are oceans out there for goodness sake. There are forests and sunsets and mountains; adventures to be had; my life to be lived. Who cares if the polyester people don’t come to the meeting? What if these few years are it, and I’m spending them vegetating behind MDF?