futile

[15_the_circle]

[OT from cottage renovations]

I make no claim to mastery of the full range of ars domestica and in particular am intimidated by most fabric technology, but there is something satisfying about the task of ironing.  in smoothing out wrinkles with hot metal the results are so immediately tangible. 

but to iron a stack of shirts and then immediately pack same into soft luggage is at best an act of boundless optimism; more realistically it is one of sheer folly. 

here in la ciudad del lago de sal there is no sign of the advance party with whom I am to spend the week.  the colleage from the UK office was denied boarding based on imperfect visa paperwork, which he subsequently corrected only to not make the second day's flight as he was on standby and it was full, so he was going to try again but hasn't been heard from since.  our best engineer was also to have flown out here Thursday but the travel agency booked him on the following day's flight, since the departure of which he has been similarly incommunicado. 

I may not know where they are, and don't know when I will, but all is not lost:  I checked the closet and found both iron and board.