The Aerie
Life continues to slog along.
The big news is that my boss left for his vacation more than a week early. He's a nice guy, but a visionary - meaning that every time I'd talk to him he'd load me up with a dozen new things to do, many of which seemingly at odds with things he had given me previously. And of course everything had to be done immediately. I was steeling my nerve to have a conversation with him about the inherent inefficiencies in this system of management, so it was with mixed feelings that I arrived at work last Tuesday to learn that he was gone. He was scheduled to have a month-long vacation starting December 15th, but apparently his grandmother died and he was leaving early. Ya...er, um, that's too bad, I'm very sorry to hear that.
The other news is that they moved my cube, again. I've been here just under ten weeks, and this is my fourth cube. It's definitely a step down from the last one, insofar as the last cube afforded me a nice view out the window. My only view here are autumn-gold walls and taupe cubicle. It's also noisy here, with lots of people talking about Michael Vick and other nonsense in loud laughing groups.
On the other hand, this is an "official" cube. I'm SUPPOSED to be here, and my phone even works. Yay! Not that anyone calls, but IF THEY DID...
The weekend was nice, very uneventful. I stopped by Uncle Hugo's Science Fiction Bookstore and picked up a couple of books, so I spent much of the weekend reading "Dzur" by Steven Brust. Unfortunately I could not remember ANYTHING about the prior book in the series, so I spent Saturday reading Issola, and then Sunday reading Dzur. I have several friends who know the author quite well, and despite what they have to say about him he remanis on my list of "immediate grab" authors: doesn't matter what the book says on the cover, if it's by Brust (or Bull, or either Vinge, or Wolfe or Tepper or MacAvoy...) I simply snatch it off the New Arrivals rack at Uncle Hugo's.
Tonight is going to be a Very Special Occasion According to my spouse (who used to blog during the 1980's using a pencil and paper - something called a "diary"?) tonight is the
(Pausing to breathe in and out of a paper bag for a minute)
Twentieth Anniversary of the Day we Met
Think back to where YOU were twenty years ago. (Those of you too young to remember can just STFU now, I can hear you laughing.) Well, twenty years ago my spouse and I met at an Applebee's in Brooklyn Park, and despite that we're still together today. I am one of those fortunate people who can remember the first instant I saw my spouse. I was in the Applebee's waiting area, and she peeked in the door, her head curiously canted to one side.
It was a blind date arranged through a personals newspaper (a prehistoric Craig's List called "Di's Meet People", for you youngsters), and my first thought on seeing her was, "No, that's not her: too pretty." Seriously, who expects to meet someone gorgeous through a personal's ad? I mean, look at what SHE ended up with!
But it was her. We had both been recently dumped, and spent a delightful evening complaining about our exes. When it came time to leave, I asked her if we were going Dutch or if I was paying - she looked at me as if I were insane. (She hadn't spent as much time as I had dating aggressively feminist college women. Actually none, come to think of it.) So I paid the bill with, honest to goodness, the last seven dollars in my bank account.
It says something about how long it's been that two people could spend several hours at Applebee's and pay only seven dollars. Or it says something about my memory, which could have that number totally wrong. The only number I'm sure of is the zero in the bank account at the end of it.
Still, it proved to be a good investment! And that's such a romantic way to describe our relationship - a good fiscal investment!
Anyway we're going to go to Solera tonight and celebrate twenty years of togetherness. But we'll wrap up early, 'cause we're old and I have to work in the morning...
Well THAT didn't work out.
My last entry was of course all about how busy this weekend was going to be. Then this little snowstorm blew in (and I mean, little - 4 inches? A dusting!)
Next thing you know the Saturday afternoon nephew party is cancelled (poor kid).
I spent that time trying fruitlessly to upgrade my installation of Movable Type. The instructions leave something to be desired seem to be deliberately incorrect, and my knowledge of MySQL and some of the other new technologies involved meant that by about 2:00 p.m. I was ready to hurl my computer out the window. Which, since I've only got a little basement transom, would have been just too much effort. Only reason you're reading this now.
As I mentioned I was feeling exhausted... so Saturday night rolls around and at 7:00 p.m. I completely passed out in my armchair. Ended up NOT going to the party at the friend's house that I'd been looking forward to all week. As I dragged my sorry butt up the stairs to bed around 9:00 p.m. I was really upset and disappointed, but aside from that brief period of consciousness I ended up sleeping for about fourteen straight hours, so I guess it was better that I didn't go. I would have made myself and other people sicker.
The part of me that hates going to work every day was annoyed that I wasted a sick day on a weekend. On the other hand the part of me that gets paid by the hour was quite delighted to not waste a day's pay lying about in bed wondering why sick days aren't as much fun to experience as they seem like they'd be when you're working.
I did go and speak as the "guest atheist" at the church. The kids were very low-energy, but some of them had some pretty sharp comments, including one seventh-grade girl who knew that "under God" was a late addition to the Pledge of Allegiance.
Then instead of playing D&D at our house, my friend hosted the kids at his house, meaning I could have gotten a bunch of stuff done this afternoon. But my friend called to go walking, so I decided to take the walk - it's about the only exercise I got this week.
Tomorrow I'll go back to the gym, he promised himself uselessly.
Anyway the weekend is done, and now comes another week of work. Which is better than another week of unemployment, but only just.
I wish working didn't seem like a tremendous waste of time, but part of me just can't get over resenting being a wage-slave.
Maybe I'll feel better once the first paycheck actually clears the bank.