Breakfast conversations and an extra pair of sox

As we have spent more and more time together, we have gotten to know one anther so much better and have clearly become comfortable enough that NO topic is off limits. For instance, this morning at breakfast we spoke for some time on Will's fetish for high quality underwear. No Hanes or Fruit of the Loom for his fancy ass! I retorted with my new found appreciation for Under Armor undies (and the many more affordable imitations). We have talked about Ken's prior military experience and on many occasions, we have discussed (sometimes while he present, sometimes when he's not) Dave's penchant to extend ANY situation indefinitely with idle banter, quiet chit chat, polite small talk and overt politicking. I wish I had a nickel for every time I heard:

"Where's Dave?"
"Talking to someone."
"We're not going anywhere, anytime soon, are we?"
"Nope."

We love Dave, and realize that it's through his hard work, established and burgeoning relationships and endless chatting, that these projects are able to happen. Maybe we need to teach him a code word or phrase. We could make it something appropriate like, "the bathroom floor is wet" or, "Seth has malaria". We could whisper the code to him and it would clearly communicate something like:

"Kevin, Ken and Will stayed up until 2am discussing tattoos, cigars and whiskey. They are tired and cranky. Johnny O is anxious to get back to the hotel to tie knots. Seth is convinced he has contracted typhoid AND yellow fever and on the verge of developing diarrhea from the anxiety. We need to extricate ourselves from this situation precipitously and immediately head back to the hotel before Kevin loses his shit, Kenny starts throwing furniture, Will starts dancing on the column over there, John removes his shoelaces to make a set of prussiks and Seth loses bowel control."

I will be discussing appropriate code language with Ken and Will over lunch. By this afternoon, we will be able to more effectively communicate our needs to our fearless leader.

On a much lighter note, most of us had our laundry done yesterday. It disappeared in the morning and came back, washed, pressed, folded and hung up in the closet. I was ecstatic to get back the clothes, I was less happy about finding a pair of sox that was not mine. We have no idea who they belong to which begs the question, who else's laundry was ours mixed in with? Not gonna think about it too much, the last thing I need to be considering is the possibility of transcutaneous transmission of Ebola through poorly laundered clothing.