Chortling out loud

Welcome to this week’s Reno News & Review.

I’m sitting here in my office. It’s Friday afternoon. Just past 3. I’ve got Clap Your Hands Say Yeah’s first album playing on my cell phone, which blasts over my office stereo loud enough that it probably irritates people around me. I’ve got a friend who keeps texting me tempting messages suggesting that dive bars are the place I belong this evening—and maybe even this afternoon.

Man, it’s hard. I had one of those weeks, and I anticipate working all weekend, so it would be so easy just to slip out and catch up at home tomorrow. I’m the boss, after all. Who’s going to complain? I mean, besides me.

Gotta be strong, though. I know you’re right there with me. Accuweather says it’s 73 degrees outside my unopenable office window, but I think it’s a little warmer. At least, it sure seemed that way as I walked back from my lunch with the irrepressible Carter King at Louis’ Basque Corner, where I did not have any Picon punches with lunch but did have the sweetbreads. I didn’t even have a glass of the chilled red wine that comes with lunch. Responsible, you know.

Oops, I think the album is repeating. “You say I’m hurt, well, I will take your word.” Something about music when I’m feeling like getting my drink on. Those … lyrics … just … hit home. Apparently, I’m going to pay for my excessive charm.

But not tonight. Truth be told, this office is stifling. Occasionally, I feel the wisp of a breeze from the air conditioner, but these four walls feel like a cell. Makes me feel parched. Look at that—among my texting friend, answering these constantly interrupting emails, and writing this snapshot, the time just keeps marching on by. In a few short minutes, it’ll be 4 o’clock and they’ll be opening up the deck over at St. James.

Hmm. You know, I did get into the office at 7:30 this morning: “Let the cool goddess rust away.”