Disrupted movement lunch

10:59 - Our contact for the manuscript we are working on has finally sent me

a response to my email. It seems as though he's made some mistakes, and he's confused. After all, this guy, who was supposed to collect forms, hadn't done much of anything until after an author went on maternity leave and three others had gone on vacations. We protect the asses of those who make mistakes, and our own like plastic wrap.

11:07 - An email from Andrea suggesting that I escape quickly downstairs to

the lunchroom and viewing area where we will all sit and have a film's light reflect off our eyes like in middle school; eating as we gaze. She’ll meet me downstairs at 11:30 or so.

11:15 - Problems persist with this Statement; which, needs to go in for peer

review. Turns out we're missing even more authors’ forms than we thought, and I'm told that we may just drop some authors’ names from the manuscript. It makes sense in some ways, but not in others. Conflicted as a former author, understanding as a former editor, ignorant as my current understanding is that a person authors several statements and papers a year. I can't escape downstairs.

11:16 - I got an email from Heather telling me that I incorrectly filled out a

Author Disclosure Table, despite her telling me to do it the exact opposite way yesterday. It looks like its going to be lunch at my desk again.

11:57 – After waiting for this guy to get back to us he finally does, only he has

complicated things further by ignoring what both Heather and my emails said and explaining that he’ll go ask for one doctor’s form and have it faxed to us post haste. Problem is, not more than half hour ago I told this guy that we had the author’s form… Missed my chance to talk some more. Our conversations are fascinating even if they’re injected with random tangents by others and ourselves. I wouldn’t mind sitting down outside of working and “getting to know.” That sounds weird and dodgy.

12:25 – I’m still here at my desk, and I should probably apologize for my

absence at lunch. I don’t want her to get the wrong impression. My nerves are moving like an African tribal dance…or my urge to call this form collector a jackass.

12:27 – Back to dealing with manuscripts of statements…and my apprehension

at saying anything at all. This is why it’s been eight months since my last encounter. Hooray for dinner for one, baseball, my computer and Sarah Vowell novels.