The Ghost of Copies Past

          I've been tearing up magazines on the T in the morning, and the last few I've gone through have been ancient, papery copies of The Conservationist, the official magazine of the New York Department of Environmental Conservation. They're made of real paper, not that plasticky Reader's Digest "paper," and they have this wonderful old-magazine smell that you can't get from decade-old issues of TIME, or even your daddy's backlog of National Geographic. Moving on, if there is one thing that I've learned from my job, it's to get everything in writing when dealing with people you don't trust. In the short time I've worked in this office, I've seen a bunch of cases that would have been open and shut if half of the evidence wasn't "he said, she said." I spent more time running around to get those briefs for the SJC finished, including an aggravating episode with Copy Cop. I called the number on record for their Washington Street location, and someone picked up the phone and answered my questions. I went to said location and found it closed for renovation, as was the other one previously situated nearby. This begs the question: Who was phone?
          I went to Sir Speedy instead, and they dealt with our problem in about ten seconds with high efficiency and courtesy, red paper and all. ("Is this shade of red acceptable?") Victorious, I grabbed my typical BLT at Archie's, where the cashier almost remembered my sandwich -- she has before -- and saw me out with a personable "See you soon!" It's nice being remembered at your local sandwich shop -- very homey. I spoke with Logan about his upcoming visit, but it seems like the trip has been thrown into question.
          Quote of the day:
"Who wants to tell him you spoke to me and I said no? ... Inga, you've got guts. You can do it." - Mark

Well?