Grading curve
The students are a mixed of sheepish and annoyed as they sort through the papers, handing them to their owners, looking at their scores.
The students are a mixed of sheepish and annoyed as they sort through the papers, handing them to their owners, looking at their scores.
"Nutmeg." I repeat, perhaps a bit sheepishly. "That woman smelled like banana bread."
The University's Public relations department sends out a newsletter via e-mail, and it seems they have somehow put all of the addresses in a cc instead of a bcc. Now we all have a list of
I leave the apartment at five in the morning with a rolled up carpet over my shoulder. Throwing it into the trunk of the car, I drive to my office. There are not a lot of people around,
"Oh, he's a younger guy then?" I ask. "I couldn't really tell," he says. "He's white."
Everybody's favorite detective, Columbo, that little man in the rumpled raincoat, comes off base, but is deceptively acute.
I'm walking through a building on campus where there are workers doing renovations. A fellow is singing as he polishes the floor. "Careful," he sings, making eye contact, "sharp bits on the ground.