The interior designer spent several hours today meticulously coloring a rendering for one of our projects, numbered 114. Every time I walked by his desk he had a pile of pencils and drafting brushes and triangles and was delicately texturing a roof tile or getting the shape of a shadow just right. At 4:05 pm, he finally declared it finished and showed it off to the rest of the office. We oohed and aahed and he put it down to work on something else.
At 4:10, I walked by his desk and knocked my elbow into a full cup of water balanced on the ledge at the edge of his table. I looked down and saw the cup and water sloshing rapidly across a color rendering of project number 114. I gasped and dropped the message I was carrying and fell all over myself apologizing, and wondered why he was calmly mopping up water instead of freaking out the way I was doing.
It was the old rendering, thank any cosmic force you care to name. The new drawing which he'd just finished was sitting safely on the layout table 3 feet away, dry as a bone. Because no one told me that ahead of time, I fully expect to see a new grey hair tomorrow when I look in the mirror. That'll be 6, by the way. I'm counting.
Jacob, I win the clumsy contest.Posted by dianna at September 30, 2004 04:34 PM