Copy Machine

Come into work this morning to find Libby very excitedly waving papers in front of me and saying that it looks like we are at the End of our Contract (feel that this sounds Biblical). She explains that she found the contract for Minolta we are due for a new copy machine. Tell her that don't care what we get, I just want one that works. Expand on subject at length. At end of speech, throat very dry. Libby, says sardonically that she hopes a brand new machine would work. Do not harbor this hope at all but am angry with self for yet again wasting breath, time, and energy on copy machine. Think privately about all other things that spend time unhelpfully on--even just this morning: wondering if dream that the leg model won $200K in the lottery means that I will win if buy a ticket; worrying about patch of ezcema on face that appears to be growing; Global Warming; clothes (this morning especially bad--everything suddenly too short, too long, or dorky to the extreme); wishing train would come right away and walking to edge of platform to peer into tunnel in semi-compulsive manner. See that could go on for quite some time, so force self to answer long list of pending emails. Uneasy feeling remains that this too a waste of time. (Alarming and possibly existential question: what isn't a waste?)