I'm at my job, which takes place in a wintry field by a row of sooty brick buildings. The field contains tiny offices made of snow; they remind me of the "igloos" I made as a kid by digging holes into big mounds of snow. (The piles made by snowplows were particularly good for this.)
Today we're painting the igloos with colorful acrylic-based paint -- green, blue, orange, tan. I ask if this is a good idea, because at some point the snow will melt and the paint will wilt all over the grass. Nobody else seems to mind.
Suddenly one of our coworkers, David Letterman, appears. He got married over the weekend, and he's showing off his ring. It's made of pink quartz, and it's as long as his index finger, so he can't bend the finger. The top portion of the ring is bulky. Letterman flips a hidden switch, and it opens to reveal a secret compartment. He's storing five marbles in it. "Isn't that cool?" he says. We agree that it is, and then we get back to painting our offices.
