I was going to complain about how a lot of people around me walk very slowly and how many of these same people also cannot seem to walk a straight line. But I do not feel like doing that right now. Instead I will relate to you a brief story.

About a week ago someone brought their dog into the break room in the archive. Why? I have no idea. You'd have to ask them. I couldn't, because they and their dog were both already gone when I arrived the next day. How, then, did I know there had been a dog in the room at all, you might ask me at this point. If we were sitting over a table, I would lean forward and look at you over my glasses as if to say, "I think we both know the answer to that question." I might also raise my eyebrows.