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To day I had to work. I mean, not only going to the office, reading the emails, answering some, answering the phone, calling people on the phone, telling people what to do, going out to lunch, having a meeting, making a speech, asking questions, flirting with the receptionist, washing my hands and all that. This time it was actual work. I do not remember the last time I did that. I had the hard copy of the paper that I promised to review and correct, I had the pencil, but, big panic, I did not have the eraser, the most useful work implement in my trade. I have an eraser on my desk since ever, even two of them. No eraser, maybe littlegirl borrowed it the last time she came to my office. Suddenly, realizing that I did not have an eraser anymore and did not even remember the last time I used one, made me feel a walking dead, I felt obsolete, outdated, an empty shell. I felt I understood why an older colleague of mine of years ago kept a small bottle of vodka in his desk drawer (me and an other colleague found that out while we were legitimately intruding). Went next door, got an eraser and started to work. Two solid hours. Resisted going for a coffee, resisted going to scrounge a cigarette from someone. Resisted. Got a head ache, but did it.
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