Piecing together bits of attention from slipstream senses of presence, and regretting once again not taking more downtime during what looks like the last sort of normal weekend before the next big upcoming change. Also: contemplating whether that Oscar Wilde quote was ideally used in a signoff note.

A breather, with a lot of things sitting in chairs and trying not to squint at different charts and patterns and trying to read letters and faces and frames. Then a thoughtful half hour dwelling on my plans, turning over their distance from my feelings, and an evening in, archiving ancient passwords.

Came back to a spot I’d last visited just over thirteen years ago, and sang along under my breath to a TV playing “The Wiz” while a kind and talented woman business-casualed my Afro for next week’s return to office. Then got to attend my own funeral via a video chat send-off from coworkers.

Got some sun in after a pre-lunch meeting about eldritch horrors and copyright infractions, and a lazy lap around the plaza before I found a coast range lizard skittering along the cool concrete edge that sunlight hadn’t yet swung around and turned grill-hot. He didn’t stick around, so neither did I.