I sometimes compare myself to Don Quixote.
I spend a lot of my time at work engaged in futile acts. For instance, I am daily engaged in completely pointless interactions with a wide range of inanimate objects. These can include: printers, doors, windows, toilets, certain staff members and, of course, HEOs.
I'm thinking of cashing in on this.
My epic novel could start thus:
En un lugar de Irlanda, de cuyo nombre no quiero acordarme, no ha mucho tiempo que vivía un funcionaria pública qui fue aburrida todos los dias en su lugar de trabajo, y qui queria matar su jefe.
In a place in Ireland, whose name I do not want to remember, not very long ago, there lived a civil servant who was bored every day in her workplace, and who wanted to kill her boss.
Nice.
(Apologies to Cervantes, and proper Spanish scholars in general).
Although, with the Official Languages Act, I'd probably have to write the damn thing in Irish. Or get it translated. Which would cost the State thousands. And only one person would read it.
Mierda.
I spend a lot of my time at work engaged in futile acts. For instance, I am daily engaged in completely pointless interactions with a wide range of inanimate objects. These can include: printers, doors, windows, toilets, certain staff members and, of course, HEOs.
I'm thinking of cashing in on this.
My epic novel could start thus:
En un lugar de Irlanda, de cuyo nombre no quiero acordarme, no ha mucho tiempo que vivía un funcionaria pública qui fue aburrida todos los dias en su lugar de trabajo, y qui queria matar su jefe.
In a place in Ireland, whose name I do not want to remember, not very long ago, there lived a civil servant who was bored every day in her workplace, and who wanted to kill her boss.
Nice.
(Apologies to Cervantes, and proper Spanish scholars in general).
Although, with the Official Languages Act, I'd probably have to write the damn thing in Irish. Or get it translated. Which would cost the State thousands. And only one person would read it.
Mierda.
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