Chuck, the avuncular engineer that I regard with a mixture of fondness and frustration, has returned from a month-long trip to Europe. His return was preceeded with the arrival of a box of his dirty clothes that he mailed to the office; somehow the box wound up in my cubicle for "safe-keeping", as if they were in danger of being stolen.

Anyway, he's back, but no souvenirs have been forthcoming. This is quite unusual. Perhaps it's because his wife still has jet lag one week after their return home. At any rate, I'm (mostly) glad to have him back.

Yesterday, he was walking around with ripped pants. We're talking a one-cheek blow-out of his work khakis. Linda the admin. ass't. got an eyeful of tighty-whitey, something she says is seared into her memory. Chucky refused to let anyone mend them or to call home and get another pair, he just walked around with a magazine covering his butt. Typical engineer behavior.