For my sins, I work at a non-profit that relies for part of its income...

On nightly celebrations of bingo.  This lovely post at Senza Peli sulla Lingua points out a playfully intriguing aspect of Gaudi's Sagrada Familia in Barcelona; the Wikipedia entry on 'magic squares' is here. The images of number combinations are in fact depictions of bingo wins, are they not?  Seriously, the Barnabite blogger notes that he's read that there are supposed to be 33 combinations of sections (the four numbers of each section total 33, Our Lord's age at his Passion and Death) but that he and his students have only been able to find 32.  I sure as heck can't find another. 

The similarities between religion and college football...

Are noted by Carl Olson; I wonder if nightmarish traffic has an analogue in religion, too? This being Eugene, there are in fact any number of people here who despise what professionalised college sport represents, for a variety of different and contrary reasons, of course; they tend to keep silence when home games are played, however.  I refused to bedeck myself in green and yellow clothing, as was seriously suggested to us peons by my company's executive director; good Lord.

Changing a tire on the edge of the interstate...

Is a experience to be had once, in exceptionally pleasant weather, after the client who had been transported is safely home.

The last time I had to change a tire on the work vehicle it was 95 degrees, the air conditioning wasn't working, the client's mother had to come collect him... on the other hand, there was a spacious parking lot available for the operation.

But after a morning of fog and drizzle, it really is a beautiful evening.

For work-related reasons, I had to listen a hundred times to Lady Gaga's...

CD 'something something' (I can't remember the name); some of the tunes are quite 'catchy' and the CD doesn't provide the full staged outrageousness, after all, but, good Heavens, to be excited about the performer and her depraved public indecencies, tsk, I don't really get that; Edward Feser is entirely right--new clothes, same old evils.  When pornographic entertainers try to begin putting children on stage in their acts, I'll vote for closing the theatres down; until then, nihil sub sole novum, as Ecclesiastes has it.

It is one of those weeks when...

The workplace is likely to overflow its banks and inundate the freshly germinated little seedlings which might otherwise, left in bright sun and only moderately watered, grow up into posts here.  Ordinarily, I work with N. three days a week (the non-profit agency supports people with intellectual and other disabilities); four this week, however, which perhaps might not seem to be such a major alteration but the reality is that Monday, Wednesday and Friday is the routine, it allows both himself and myself the intervening Tuesdays and Thursdays to recuperate from each other, et cetera.  And, apart from that, there is a certain very dissonant crescendo of paperwork that is occurring. Perhaps I just haven't seen anything worth running my fingertips off about, pft. 

Am not looking forward to the day at work...

Because I am afraid that we might be losing a co-worker to the vagaries of management and bureaucratic nonsense.  On the other hand, there is (ordinarily) a kernel of real significance in such crap, albeit one hidden beneath (ordinarily) impenetrable layers of uselessness: and who is to say that this might not be that singular instance when the official busybodies have got their fingers on that bit of reality.  But we shall see.