I couldn’t decide whether to write about Underdog, one of my favorite childhood cartoon heroes, or underwear. So I’ll write about both.
We owned a couple of Underdog glass tumblers (tall drinking glasses) when I was a kid: one had Sweet Polly Purebred, Underdog’s lady love on it; the other featured the humble superdog himself. The theme song to that show was so thrilling, and I loved the fact that Underdog always spoke in rhymed verse. In fact, if asked as a child what kind of superpower I would like to be given, I’m pretty sure I would have asked for the ability to always speak in rhymed verse. (Even then I was a language geek.)
Since the theme of the day is undecided, I’ve changed my mind about writing about underwear. (I hear some of you sighing in relief and others moaning in disappointment. Maybe next “U is for…” day.)
Yesterday, a friend and I were discussing how the both of us are understaffed and underfunded. I mentioned that I had taken one of those personality-type quizzes that helps you figure out how best to get organized. I fall into the category of person who should hire someone. It turns out that I’m not really disorganized; I’m understaffed. My friend has been tirelessly looking for a job since well before she was awarded her PhD last spring. Her research fellowship is running out, and she’s trying not to panic. I pointed out that she’s been working harder at finding a job than she would work if she actually had a job. She put it this way: “I’m not unemployed — because heaven knows I have more than enough to do — I’m underfunded.”
There’s a good chance you’ve found this post uninteresting. While that is unfortunate, it also seems unavoidable.
The Daily Compost 