Headlong Toward Catastrophe

Last week a government agent showed up at the office. I'll not go into detail here for various reason (mostly because it wasn't really serious, and the details don't really matter). The guy was a bit rude, but not really an ass or anything. He didn't swagger or play big brother. I only remember that he was bit rude because he was dressed like Mr. Rogers... without the comfortable shoes.

The rude was just a small thing. I wouldn't hold it against the guy. Someone at the office, we'll call her Jan, assumed he was there for a meeting with the company officers. She wasn't overly presumptuous (there was a meeting scheduled for that time). They guy was all like, "I have no idea what you're talking about," and whipped out a badge.

Jan looked as if someone slapped her. The whole thing was funny, in a kind of surreal way. The guy was dressed like Mr. Rogers!

I have no idea why that amuses me so.

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My fiancée is the best any person could wish for. Really. No, really. This isn't one of those "look at how cute this is" posts... Okay, it is, but I think the facts prove her to be more than a cut above the rest.

Case in point:
She got me this watch. The world's coolest watch, mind you. And not a watch from Wal-Mart. This is no cheap watch, and she bought it for me. But the reason she bought it for me is the kicker... She bought me this watch because I got her an engagement ring.

Now before you say I'm wrong for accepting the watch (because I didn't ask for it), please keep in mind that I tried to stop her. Really. It seemed wrong to me, but--as I understand it--it seemed just as wrong to her not to exchange things.

But this is only the beginning...

Yesterday she gave me birthday presents. I am aware that yesterday was not my birthday. But she won't be in town on my birthday, so it makes sense.
She got me many things. A pair of tweezers, a shirt, a duffel bag and book. But the tweezers are the super awesome, pull out anything, tweezers. If you've never had a pair, you don't know what you are missing. The duffel holds a volume equal to 62 liters (or as I keep saying 60 two-liters). The shirt is the bomb. I encountered such a shirt once before but was too poor to buy it, and the book...

I could claim I had wanted this book forever, but I had not. I could claim that book was on a subject dear to my hear, but again it is not. Yet the book is a book I would want if I had known it existed.





She can read the thoughts I haven't had yet!!!!!!!!

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