- The Lost World -

At the end of my workday on Friday I found myself leaving in the manner of one hitting a lemon with a tuning fork, in that I struck a sour note. A deathly silence fell unto us all as a pall seemed to descend upon our environment -- and we knowingly but inevitably slipped right into it, one tentative and unwilling step at a time.

In an instant, a deluge of events laid siege on the heavily-fortified office like a flash flood mercilessly pounding on the sorry, hapless inhabitants of the city that could not get away. New assignments, the contents of which none of us had an inkling about. An accident, albeit one which thankfully severely bruised no more than metal and ego. Unanticipated pecuniary investments; to wit, an infringement of prior agreement. Officious operators of the national gas providers whose delight in sending me on an merry-go-round bordering on interminable was matched by my scarcely-inhibited rage.

I thought at first that the Gods empathised with us for the rain they sent brought a welcome reprieve from the sweltering heat that had befallen the capital in days past. I quickly realised my folly in disregarding the cynicism that many have established as a defining charateristic in preference of the more romantic notion of Higher Order sympathy as the Rain Lords wantonly proved more than equal to their Solar compatriots, sending their scions down at a such a force as to compound our misery in ways I'd never previously thought possible.

A beckoning weekend that portends so much, and yet my newly-bred distrust of temptation hinders the marauding progress of the marching band that resides in the dank recesses where my brain used to be. Cynicism notwithstanding, we shall see.