Sometimes the universe disappoints me. I'm not one to tell anyone they should or shouldn't be in the closet, and I certainly understand the potentially precarious positions(*) of contractors but when one feels one can't say "partner" or even "boyfriend" and instead is reduced to mutterings and furtive glances around the room to see if anyone else has picked up on the fact that the speaker is, hello, gay... well, that's suckfull.
Other times I'm quite certain no one knows what I'm on about: cow orker and I arrive at Manager's office at roughly the same time, each clearly intent on speaking with him on some matter. We do the Who Should Go First? dance, which goes like this:
Her: Are you here to interrupt Rick?
Me: Yes, and I see you are, too.
Her: How long is yours?
Me: Well THAT's a bit of a personal question, isn't it?
Them both: Uncomprehending expressions.
Meanwhile, it's 97 frelling degrees outside, which more or less reduces my incentive to step outside of my nicely refrigerated box to something approximating zero.
(*) Why, yes, this is the alliteration post, thank you for noticing.