Cephalopods and Cream Suit Carnage

Today's schedule and ultimate turn of events has proven both rigorous and wretched; it began with hurrying to the office early to complete a purportedly important presentation, which was never reviewed and now likely resides in the realm of inbox limbo, a whirring virtual maelstrom from which little if anything ever manifests. Upon my early arrival to the office, the sun shone, the day appeared bright and promising, pleasant even, and I pondered on the beautiful landscape afforded me by my large picture window. Four hours later, the deluge commences, and an additional hour after that, I recall dejectedly that I left the windows of my car cracked. During an internal business development meeting with some colleagues in our large conference room, as I shifted my crossed legs under the table, I snagged my new cream suit pants on a shockingly sharp screw, cream suit pants I had worn for the sole purpose of a cancelled client meeting set for later that afternoon. Naturally, a plethora of pathetic puns involving screw and its idioms ensued. Finally, here, still in the office, the rain persists, and I am without umbrella. Glorious. Earlier in the afternoon, the filmmaker forwarded the above image, a large octopus ring he saw somewhere in a store window weeks before, and had neglected to send me; though the day has been long and trying, this trinket brought me a slight smile. Cephalopods are some of my favorite creatures; in addition to finding their fluid movements ethereal and surreal and beautiful, they are remarkably intelligent and astute problem solvers. Masters of disguise and camouflage, they are able to alter not only their skin color, but its texture as well, an attribute I would certainly welcome and pay for in the fabrics of my professional attire.