Frank Lloyd Wright was a genius of gargantuan intellect, but he was an itty bitty man who built houses with low ceiling to make himself feel taller.

I love architecture. (There goes that font again.) I just can't stand to design anything. Or maybe I fell out of love with the process of design because sadly, it has become a hostage to technology. Yes, the computer has drained the life force of the demiurge that was once the birth mother of groundbreaking, breathtaking, arrogant expressions of self, of environment--organic architecture. It has replaced the pencil, once channeler and tamer of the conflicting desires of the heart, with the mouse, resulting in static--howbeit structurally innovative--design. Architecture in the new millenium is still arrogant, but it has no reason to be.

Who am I kidding? I just can't be bothered to keep up with the many versions of AutoCAD.

Anyhoo, here's that email I was talking about before I got distracted by the voices in my head. Actual names have been replaced with fake ones to save from embarrassment the bearers of the actual names. I know you'll appreciate the hysteria:

I need your advice on something:

Upon returning from a settlement this afternoon, I set down my chai latte on the receptionist's desk in order to make copies for my boss of the check we received. He had just walked into the lobby and I happened to glance up to see him putting down my coffee which, I assume, he had picked up to examine. Just to, as they say, make assurance doubly sure, I called the receptionist as soon as I got back to my desk to ask him if he had sipped some of my coffee. She said yes. This is maybe the tenth time he's done this.

Now, what I need advice on is this: Do I accept this as part of a normal, healthy boss-employee relationship or do I sue his butt for beverage harassment? It should constitute harassment, since I always have to think on my feet to find creative ways to chuck the coffee once "sippage" has occurred.

I appreciate any thoughts you may have.

Doesn't look like I had any names to change there, but since everyone at the office heard about that little bit of drama, woe betide me should one of them actually read my blog. Consequences be damned, I say! One friend suggested spiking my chai with cyanide next time, but I prefer the course of action another friend came up with: Spike it with a liquid laxative.

Oh no, I think I hear those footsteps again! Sorry, it was just the phone ringing. All the same, I need a refresher on ADA handrail requirements. (Alright, I really wanna go surf the web for more Roy Orbison in clingfilm-related sites.)