Rupert Giles (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} giles_watching) wrote,@ 2006-01-28 15:27:00 |
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New Year's Reflection
Giles took his scotch, the good stuff he only drank to mark an occasion, over to his desk. He set the glass down on the small area clear of papers. He’d let things pile up, rather, over the Christmas holidays. Thankfully it was a slow time, even for demons. There was always a burst of black masses and some sacrifice rituals on Christmas day itself (the Watchers’ agents were on alert for those and even manage to stop one or two); otherwise it tended to be very low key. Now it was New Year’s Eve and in a day or two things would be busy again. Sighing, Giles sat down, to work through it all.
Even without the task before him, he would have been spending the evening quietly. He’d come to regard New Year’s Eve as very much ‘amateur night’. Forced hilarity, overindulgence by those unsuited or unused to it, the pressure to kiss at midnight. A sensible man avoided it, staying by the home fire with a good drink.
He spent some time on the stack of papers, checking reports, being astonished at proposed budgets, comparing graphs submitted by overseas offices. Finally he came to a single sheet of what he imagined would be called ‘fluorescent magenta’ paper, if one were to describe it. Undoubtedly it had come from the desk of his assistant, Andrew. Giles realized once again, ‘you can take the boy out of America, but you can’t take...’
It was one of Andrew’s ‘communiqués to the staff’ or ‘morale boosters’ or ‘tips from the top’. Giles forgot which term Andrew was using at present. How it got mixed up in his work papers he couldn’t imagine. He must have been paying even less attention to things than he thought.
This newsletter’s theme was, of course, the new year. Rededication was stressed; gratitude for good fortune; letting go of old slights and worries. Giles, in glancing over it, even saw the term ‘clean slate’ used. It was amazing to Giles, that even though Andrew did a tremendous amount at the office, he still found time to churn out these things. He put the flyer aside.
Giles found it best not to dwell. On the past, or the future. Especially on the artificially significant time like New Year’s Eve. The days of life are long, but the years are short. He knew he wasn’t the only older person to have made that observation. Best just to get through the paperwork and let life unfold as it will.
Giles took his scotch, the good stuff he only drank to mark an occasion, over to his desk. He set the glass down on the small area clear of papers. He’d let things pile up, rather, over the Christmas holidays. Thankfully it was a slow time, even for demons. There was always a burst of black masses and some sacrifice rituals on Christmas day itself (the Watchers’ agents were on alert for those and even manage to stop one or two); otherwise it tended to be very low key. Now it was New Year’s Eve and in a day or two things would be busy again. Sighing, Giles sat down, to work through it all.
Even without the task before him, he would have been spending the evening quietly. He’d come to regard New Year’s Eve as very much ‘amateur night’. Forced hilarity, overindulgence by those unsuited or unused to it, the pressure to kiss at midnight. A sensible man avoided it, staying by the home fire with a good drink.
He spent some time on the stack of papers, checking reports, being astonished at proposed budgets, comparing graphs submitted by overseas offices. Finally he came to a single sheet of what he imagined would be called ‘fluorescent magenta’ paper, if one were to describe it. Undoubtedly it had come from the desk of his assistant, Andrew. Giles realized once again, ‘you can take the boy out of America, but you can’t take...’
It was one of Andrew’s ‘communiqués to the staff’ or ‘morale boosters’ or ‘tips from the top’. Giles forgot which term Andrew was using at present. How it got mixed up in his work papers he couldn’t imagine. He must have been paying even less attention to things than he thought.
This newsletter’s theme was, of course, the new year. Rededication was stressed; gratitude for good fortune; letting go of old slights and worries. Giles, in glancing over it, even saw the term ‘clean slate’ used. It was amazing to Giles, that even though Andrew did a tremendous amount at the office, he still found time to churn out these things. He put the flyer aside.
Giles found it best not to dwell. On the past, or the future. Especially on the artificially significant time like New Year’s Eve. The days of life are long, but the years are short. He knew he wasn’t the only older person to have made that observation. Best just to get through the paperwork and let life unfold as it will.
