Back in the snake pit.

This time around I'm sitting next to very, very nice people. It's just amazing how the wrong personalities can mess with my fragile inner peace. Although she is young enough to be my daughter, my new desk mate talks quietly on her cell phone (although my hearing is failing), says hello and goodbye, and sometimes asks my opinion about design. This shit makes a difference, especially when you are fighting the feeling of being the biggest loser in the world since you're older than dirt, a fucking dinosaur in advertising agency years (where do the nearing 50s go in this biz? Rehab? Hollywood? Suicide?), and you spent your ladder-climbing years carpooling and picking Cheerios out of your carpet. Alas. I get up, get dressed, and start every day thinking I'm going to write the best monitor topper Intel has ever seen and all those tattooed hipsters can kiss my saggy, spreading bottom.