Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

Or at least so some Irish guy said/wrote. I'm not sure I ever took those words to heart as I have now that John is gone. (Yes, I realize he's not gone gone... he's actually cavorting en Italia with loved ones, following an itinerary crafted over a period of two to three years that surely has all of them impenetrably insulated against any possible mishap).

And yes, Matt is here, but, regrettably, his kind manner and graceful competence has not been able to stem the sad and inexorable fraying of my office relationship with Rachel Duguay. I am sorry to report that in the mere day-and-a-half since John's departure, I suddenly want to kill the bitch.