Dance After Dark Photography

It’s a slow night, even by night shift standards. I’m sitting here playing with my little green ball, thanks to Kym. You have the thanks of the entire night crew as well because now I don’t flip (and drop) a quarter all night long. At least when I drop this (and I do, trust me) it just goes “foof.”

So… I was feeling quiet and contemplative, but having talked about my ball I find it hard to get back to that. *grin*

Last night was mildly embarrassing and very amusing. I’d been at work for about two hours already when I realized that my pants had ripped. Perhaps “ripped” isn’t quite the right term. Maybe I should say “parted like the Red Sea.” It was enough to make me look down and exclaim, “Holy Moses!” (Not that that would be unusual when perusing my personals. Of course it goes without saying that I get that all the time. *grin*)

So my black leather trenchcoat became by black leather kilt, and I did my best to stay sitting all night. I couldn’t help snickering, and I couldn’t resist sharing the tale with co-workers (though I did my best not to inflict the “room with a view” upon them.) The running joke was that I’d installed a new flap for easy access. Whatever you do, don’t think “pet door.”

You did it, didn’t you? I tried to warn you.

Of course, Matt pointed out that he now understood why my ball was small and green, as well as why it kept falling off. Try not to think about that either.

So now I, Walker, being of sound mind and (now) wearing sturdy pants, will sign off for the evening.

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