I walked into the office lobby on Friday and was immediately struck by this:

New carpet. Or was it? It was. But it hadn’t been there yesterday. Or had it? I could smell the faint perfume from new carpet, but it wasn’t overly strong. Did they do it overnight? Just like that?

I went to the front desk, and was "greeted" by the security officer, who is one of those people who mistakes brusque unfriendliness with "professionalism" and "authority." I asked her if the carpet was new, and she said it was. When? Recently, she said.

Like, yesterday? Overnight they did this? Yes, she said.

I didn't want to say that "technically overnight is recently, but recently does imply a longer period of time." I should have. She was a pill.

What's bothering me now is whether I was resposible for this pattern. I might have been. Many months ago I saw two people with four squares if samples, and once I learned what they were doing I gave them a detailed critique. They were very grateful and I am sure they marked down "random man with definite opinion about aesthetics revealed a damning deficiency in pattern #2," and thus the choice of this one was accelerated. Yes, I'm sure that's what happened.

I asked some co-workers in the office if they'd noticed the change. They hadn't. I'd wager that a poll of building workers - have you noticed anything different in the skyway area? - would come up with few "yes" answers, and what makes this really odd is the fact that everyone walks around with their head down, looking at their phones. But they can't even tell that the landscape below their magic glass infatuation-machines has completely changed.

He says, as someone who also looks down at his phone while walking. To be fair, though, in the skyways I'm just arranging things to listen to. I am not scrolling the Gram.

Ordinary weekend. Had to replace an iPad. Wife's was slllloooowww, and I could not fix it. Nuked and paved: no good. Thing is, though, I could not reproduce her issues. Best I could do was empathetically resonate with her frustrations. When she stood at a certain spot at the kitchen island, the sites she visited loaded at the pace of a roofied turtle. When I tried other sites, they seemed to snap into place with crisp alacrity. Might it be these sites, then? No! It certainly wasn’t her location, since she’s closer to the wifi broadcasting unit than any other device.

So I gave her mine, with the keyboard I hate, and she loved the keyboard, so everyone’s happy. Except her old iPad was slow, and lacked something I decided was absolutely necessary: a blue tint. Since I could trade it in for $80 and pay $20 a month on my Apple Card, hell, why not.

Drove to Southdale. The banner above is one of the storefronts, now empty. Every medium-tier retailer has been heaved and heavily ho’d, with high-end brands filling the spot. So goodbye Eddie Bauer store. Hit the road, Gap and doncha come back no mo. The flagship Victoria Secret store, once a cozy woody classy place with soft lighting, has been relocated to a garish space that looks like a dollar store. One of the department store is now a high-end grocery store that has to compete with two other high-end grocery stores within half a mile. The overall effect, at the moment, is either “serenely unfussy and open” or “dead empty.”

When I got to the Apple Store I remembered how we had to stand in line to get in, waiting for someone to point a temperature gun at our head. I wonder if anything of those things worked. I wonder if they were all cheap Chinese krep that had no sensors whatsoever. Theater.

I was greeted at the door by the guy who points you to other parts of the store depending on your mission, and he asked what I was here to do today.

“I’m buying an iPad,” I said.

“Excuse me?” He said.

“I’m buying an iPad.”

“Oh, okay, right there, someone will be along to help you.”

Did I have a mouthful of mashed potatoes when I said that the first time? And will someone be along recently? I suppose I should have just said ME WANT PAD but I was, in fact, buying an iPad. The act of entering the store began the process of buying an iPad. Don’t know why this is hard.

A nice tall guy came along, hyper chatty. By the end of the transaction we were discussing relatives and genetics and longevity and the whole arts brev, life shortus thing. I have more interesting conversations at that store than any other. It's as if they hire for quirk, but good quirk.

I went home and set up the new iPad. Very easy: it talks to your phone, they chat and gossip, and within minutes you are having an experience indistinguishable from the last time you used your iPad.

But it's blue!

Columbus and the tire company had a long history, so I wonder:

There are still Billows in Columbus.

A reminder: this is bad and I don’t know how long I will last.

When last we met our band of aviators in silly uniforms, they had . . . I don’t remember. Oh right Blackhawk got caught in a fire in a warehouse and flaming things fell upon him.

This is hilarious.

The guy who gets shot is imposter, the twin brother of one of the Blackhawks. His twin brother, Stan, who is a Good Blackhawk, goes with the Red Agents who think he is Boris, the Bad Blackhawk.

Imagine walking in on this with no idea what was going on.

Anyway, this is the second operation the spies have cocked up, so The Leader won’t be happy.

Eventually of course the Reds realize that Boris is the Stan, and beat him unconscious. But the Blackhawks, including Blackhawk, have been alerted, so it’s time for everyone to move in unison again:

There’s a reason most serials have two protagonists, at most.

Eventually they find the bad guys holding Stan, and one of the clumsiest fist-fights ever put to screen ensues. (The sound cut out on my copy for some reason.)

Poor Stan is tied to a post. And so:

Next month, for you. And for that you should be grateful.

That will do. This week might be a little short, because we have houseguests. But I'll still be here every day. How about you?