For the last several days in dreamland I’ve been working in a large, beautiful log cabin. Along with a group of cohorts — I can’t call them coworkers — we’ve been giving a series of presentations to a group of visitors.
Before my presentation this morning I went out into the audience to talk to a couple of people I had recently met. They were talking about their plans for next weekend, and invited me to join them on Saturday.
Just after this I turned around and saw that one of my cohorts had scribbled a large collection of new notes on my blackboard. Yes, a blackboard with chalk, not a whiteboard with markers. I would later think about this, and wonder if it was influenced by a Columbo episode I watched recently — the one about the architect who likes classical music and kills the millionaire cowboy who likes country-western music. The architect also teaches at a local college, and he and Columbo spent several minutes wiping off chalkboards during one scene.
So I walk up to this cohort who has written notes all over my chalkboards like a mad scientist. I read what he has written, and he asks, “What do you think?”