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This is from Saturday
Nov. 13th, 2011 09:24 amThe earworm in my head today is "Winners never quit, quitters never win, but those who never quit and never win are idiots." HOW NICE, there's a saying about me!
This work-week was unpleasant. Working 12-hour days, hearing bad news every day and slowly getting sicker until last night I finally crashed completely. I'm trying to make progress on things, mostly work-things, just kicking various cans forward down the road. (Some of these cans get to really annoying places, like the flickering in my computer monitor that has slowly, over the course of months, turned out to be my motherboard needing repair. So, with sadness, I made sure most of my data was backed up and I shipped off my computer at exorbitant expense to the repair shop. I really hate when taking care of stuff means being without said stuff for a while.) I got slower and less efficient as I got sicker.
A pixel of brightness came in via shoes: Fluevog again is carrying black Derby Swirl boots, a classic. Mine wore out last spring after eleven years of wear, and then they weren't carrying them anymore... so I nipped over the river on Friday and bought a new pair without hesitation. By all reasonable predictions, I'll be stomping around in them until I'm 45.
I also bought warm winter pants, something I probably should have done years ago with the way my leg-muscles hate getting cold. I feel a bit of a hoarder tendency kicking in: some part of me is thinking of some leaner, lower-income time in which I might be glad to have a few really warm things. Not sure where that's coming from.
(6:16 on a Saturday night; my fellow tech lead, my PM and one of my 'minion engineers' are all online at work. What gives?)
I'm reading a draft of a novel by my first boyfriend ever. The other bright spot. It's written in a crazy not-enough-punctuation way, and needs a spell checker, and may or may not have a plot that makes any sense -- but it's his first novel-length work, and it's fun to hear his voice and picking out the bits that are autobiographical. He mentioned one place in San Francisco that was somewhat special to us back in the day, damn it, and I hated him for like 20 seconds before I thought "well, what else is he going to write about really?". I would have mentioned that place myself if I were writing a story based in SF, and I've been back there with my husband too. So that's all right.
This work-week was unpleasant. Working 12-hour days, hearing bad news every day and slowly getting sicker until last night I finally crashed completely. I'm trying to make progress on things, mostly work-things, just kicking various cans forward down the road. (Some of these cans get to really annoying places, like the flickering in my computer monitor that has slowly, over the course of months, turned out to be my motherboard needing repair. So, with sadness, I made sure most of my data was backed up and I shipped off my computer at exorbitant expense to the repair shop. I really hate when taking care of stuff means being without said stuff for a while.) I got slower and less efficient as I got sicker.
A pixel of brightness came in via shoes: Fluevog again is carrying black Derby Swirl boots, a classic. Mine wore out last spring after eleven years of wear, and then they weren't carrying them anymore... so I nipped over the river on Friday and bought a new pair without hesitation. By all reasonable predictions, I'll be stomping around in them until I'm 45.
I also bought warm winter pants, something I probably should have done years ago with the way my leg-muscles hate getting cold. I feel a bit of a hoarder tendency kicking in: some part of me is thinking of some leaner, lower-income time in which I might be glad to have a few really warm things. Not sure where that's coming from.
(6:16 on a Saturday night; my fellow tech lead, my PM and one of my 'minion engineers' are all online at work. What gives?)
I'm reading a draft of a novel by my first boyfriend ever. The other bright spot. It's written in a crazy not-enough-punctuation way, and needs a spell checker, and may or may not have a plot that makes any sense -- but it's his first novel-length work, and it's fun to hear his voice and picking out the bits that are autobiographical. He mentioned one place in San Francisco that was somewhat special to us back in the day, damn it, and I hated him for like 20 seconds before I thought "well, what else is he going to write about really?". I would have mentioned that place myself if I were writing a story based in SF, and I've been back there with my husband too. So that's all right.
