Hey, do you have any plans this weekend? You said you don’t celebrate it, but lunch or dinner is on me for your birthday, if you want.
Frowning, I
set the phone down at arm’s length and picked up my screwdriver again. One of
my regular clients wanted to expand their business; since I’d built the systems
they were currently using, they asked me to make five more with the same specs.
There was nothing on my calendar this morning, so I’d gone out and picked up
the parts. Yeah, I could have ordered custom-made systems and had them
delivered, but I enjoyed stepping away from computer screens and tinkering with
hardware now and then. Three of the systems were built and waiting to boot up; this
one just needed the graphics card mounted, and the fifth should be done – I
glanced at the clock – well before five.
The sun
slanted in through the blinds, low and golden in the mid-October afternoon. It
was cool enough that I welcomed the extra warmth on my back as I worked, and I made
a mental note to talk to the landlord tomorrow about getting the heat turned on
for the winter. I tightened the last screw on the case and set it next to the
other three, then picked up my phone again.
Propping one elbow on the table, I rested my chin on my hand and stared absentmindedly out the window, debating how to respond to Bast’s question. On the one hand, as he said, I didn’t really do birthdays. They’re not a thing in the plant world, although Frank had grasped the concept a few years ago and asked for extra fertilizer every spring, as an arbitrary birthday.
