Bikes. Parts. Chaos.
I walked into the office yesterday morning and noticed that Sov's desk was cleared of everything save for a thick layer of dust. And this: Surly Sandwich It then occured to me that Wednesday was his last day in the office. While we did try to get rid of him, he just kep't coming back with those sad pouty eyes and asking if he could stay. In the end we caved, but under one condition: that he stop telling jokes about Luby's mom. That worked for about..., thirty seconds. In the end, he somehow convinced us to let him work remotely from Decorah, Iowa. Hey, at least he's not here. Seriously, we love him so much we didn't want him to go, so instead he'll be using the latest technology to communicate with Surly HQ and the rest of you:
marathon calculator
We really hope this works out.
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