I used to believe in the `ole “Better late than never” adage.

But then there was that time that I was late in delivering that CD with the software update which told the Home Health Bots to not rape their clients. Boy oh boy, was Dr. Stephen J. Vunderlust upset with me! And he had good reason, too! The phone lines lit up like a Fifth of July hangover, with the receiver screeching out horrid details about old folks and invalids being robot-raped. Relentlessly. Until expiration.

So yeah, sometimes it’s not okay to be late.

But alas! This is the Monday Morning Commute and my tardiness ain’t resultin’ in any forced sodomy! This is the spot where I show you how I’ll be spending the next few days. Y’know, what I’ll be doin’ to kill time and avoid the type of boredom only available to First World Denizens of this Strange Future-Present. Anyways, then you hit up the comments section and share your upcoming activities.

Don’t be late to this ball — let’s dance!

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[cue the music]

There’re moments   in life in which appreciation simply cannot be thwarted, try as Life might.

Today has been the Greater Boston area’s first real taste of fall, a forty-degree recess that seems to cool not just the sweltering landscape, but burning souls as well. That stack of work piling ever higher? Crack open the office window and laugh as the breeze pushes papers across your desk. Stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic, a nameless worker-bee in the mass exodus from the hive? Take a look beyond the overpass at the trees, all showing off their summer’s-end sunburns of red and yellow and orange. Finally home and having trouble sloughing off the day’s worth of stress?

Just crack open a Harvest Pumpkin Ale.

Autumnal awesomeness will follow.

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