Saturday, August 27, 2005
Now, the Left Side
I often have meetings in these small, dank rooms in the basement of a large, dank building. Each can only seat 3 or 4 comfortably, but there are those that keep trying to stuff 6 or 7 around the table.
Yesterday, I was part of a group of four in room G-2. The conversation was going well, and things were getting done (or at least, we talked about doing them). There was a point, however, when two of the participants started scratching their right side - halfway between the armpit and belt line. This went on for over 30 seconds as we talked. I was totally captivated by the amazingly coincidental nature of the event, so much so that I totally lost the conversation.
Then, as suddenly as they had started, they simultaneously stopped. My attention snapped backed to the subject at hand.
Yesterday, I was part of a group of four in room G-2. The conversation was going well, and things were getting done (or at least, we talked about doing them). There was a point, however, when two of the participants started scratching their right side - halfway between the armpit and belt line. This went on for over 30 seconds as we talked. I was totally captivated by the amazingly coincidental nature of the event, so much so that I totally lost the conversation.
Then, as suddenly as they had started, they simultaneously stopped. My attention snapped backed to the subject at hand.
