As a purebred Clipart, I lie pretty flat in the kneehole of a desk. Though I don’t miss my third dimension, I do enjoy a nice towel under me. As I snooze under here, I hear a lot.
These two women are chatterboxes, though they live on opposite coasts, one in Arizona, the other in West Virginia.
Yak yak, yip yip, all the livelong.
How to do this, how to do that, how weird the Internet is, what a client said, how to mind-read clients, did he call, did she email, the whole niner.
What can I say—they are communicators. They can’t help it.
They even got me doing it after hours.
Oh, well, it’s nice background noise—kind of like keeping the radio on when you’re home alone.
Of course, I have no way to change the station.