I don’t relish the idea of working on a Saturday, though I often find myself doing so. I shouldn’t be so quick to complain though. This particular Saturday was an exception.
I had gotten to my office about 10:30 a.m., thinking I would work about three or four hours, get a few letters written and maybe catch up on some reading. I was dressed in shorts and a polo shirt, my weekend summer uniform. I hadn’t bothered shaving, though I took a long shower to wake myself up and to try and motivate myself for “weekend work.” Things were going amazingly well when I heard the main door to the off...
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