'Thank you for calling said-unnamed-psychic-hotline, this is Iggy, are you prepared for your destiny?'
Okay, so I did not actually let Iggy answer the phone, and I am pretty sure desks at the psychic hotline are more of the sheet-metal, prison-manufactured, cube-farm variety, but that's Iggy joining me at work and patiently listening to me bravely try to explain myself. Needless to say, Iggy was quickly relegated back to my bag.
(I think they just tolerate me because I give good phone voice to all those pesky customers who pay our wages!)
Okay, so I did not actually let Iggy answer the phone, and I am pretty sure desks at the psychic hotline are more of the sheet-metal, prison-manufactured, cube-farm variety, but that's Iggy joining me at work and patiently listening to me bravely try to explain myself. Needless to say, Iggy was quickly relegated back to my bag.
(I think they just tolerate me because I give good phone voice to all those pesky customers who pay our wages!)
I also realized something on my walk yesterday about the art, craft and work of sidewalking. Unfortunately, it seems to be antithetical to all I was taught about living in a city - I was taught to always keep an eye on your surroundings and always make eye contact (that way you have a better chance of identifying your mugger). I don't think I am going to be a good sidewalker, but I will still collect coins when they jump into my vision, and probably wind up depositing them ni the expired meters I find on my journeys.
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