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Daydreamer

April 15, 2009

I’m in an all-day meeting today, you know – the kind you have to attend and stay all day for, since you’re presenting something of your own, and your input into other matters – most hardly related to your own work – is “valued”. By who?

I’ve done what I always do at these things: overeat at lunch (the food is good at this particular meeting, not the usual stale deli-type fare). Now the post-lunch food coma is setting in, and I catch myself nodding off. What genius decided on lasagna for lunch anyway? The presenter is a poor one, another serial PowerPoint abuser, and my head lolls backwards leaving my neck sore. The guy sitting next to me is a smoker, and the acrid smell that clings to him from his lunchtime fix makes me gag.

My sleepy head rolls back again, and in my sleepiness I realize the feeling  is not unlike belayer’s neck.  Thinking about that starts my mind wandering to thoughts of climbing like it usually does when I’m bored stiff. Staring at the ceiling, I imagine what it would be like to climb across the it somehow, perhaps drytooling across the cowling over the light fixtures followed by a figure-4 onto the window sill. They would most likely collapse under my weight, and I’d most certainly need some serious body tension just to keep my feet on the opposite railing. Yeah…now there’s a way out of here – the window is open!

Mantelling over the window and leaning outside the building, my mind spins at the sudden exposure and a brief gust of cold wind catapults me into wakefulness. Better get this done! I stash my tools on the window ledge and start looking for a way up. Much to my surprise, I find perfect hand jams on the buildings façade and stem into a corner system that allows me to layback and chimney all the way to the roof a couple of stories higher. The architect must’ve been a climber!

A quick rockover and I’m on top, only to be catapulted to wakefulness by a stern question directed at me. What? What is it? Did someone call the cops?? What the…?

Oh, crap… I must’ve dozed off. Now I’m gonna look like an ass! I hope I wasn’t snoring. What? Oh, good! My colleague is nudging me – it’s coffee time at last. Fortunately for me, a manager was caught snoring so no one noticed my antics. Wait… that was a daydream wasn’t it?

So why, then, are my forearms pumped and my finger tips sore?

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