Some People Think About Sex During Meetings

Only fifteen minutes to go and still only half-way through this meeting's agenda, as one of the executives begins to hold forth enthusiastically on the minutia of the political relationship between our company and some county or other. My need to be constantly moving manifests itself, today, in repeatedly clicking the button on my pen; not the pen I like, of course - that one I gave to my boss, fool that I am. 

It was perfect: smooth writing, the perfect line (not too thin or fat - too thin, and my handwriting looks like a serial killer's spidery, wandering hand, too fat and I might be mistaken for a kindergartner), a good weight and well-shaped, but still plain enough to avoid attracting the eye of the practiced pen pilferer, and admittedly, she does sign more documents than me, it really was perfect for that; I wonder if I could find another one, maybe order it, what was it called again, Signature-something.... 

My ear catches an unfamiliar acronym, and I snap back from my pen-centered reverie, two minutes gone, with no idea what we're talking about.