Meet Huey.  He’s shop steward for the hamsters that run my laptop, wireless, DSL, etc.  (Of course - whadja think, I’d hire scab hamsters?)

For more than a week, Huey and his comrades have been hanging out at the golf course.  Yes, they’ve been on strike.  (According to Huey, besides demanding better working conditions, they felt it was their professional duty to teach me not to tempt fate by announcing that I’m back.)

So, after protracted negotiations, we have finally reached a new collective bargaining agreement.  (Oh, who the hell am I kidding?  They frigging blackmailed me.)  In addition to all-natural, all-organic premium hamster food, dedicated hamster siesta time, a new 401K and stock options, and a health club membership, they also have new living quarters.  Behold, the Hamster Company Condo:

[Personally, I think it looks like some weird kind of alien group sex toy, but they seem to like it.  Besides, as long as they keep running, who am I to complain about whatever weird hamster sex they want to have?]

Huey, his union brothers and sisters, and I are all in Taos for a few days, so maybe I can keep ‘em happy with the change of scenery.