||[Nov. 8th, 2012|09:56 am]
Okay, on the plus side, I came in this morning to a brand new computer at my desk. Except for the same tiny monitor. I’ve offered to go get a wide screen on my own dime, but no, it might…poison something? Transmit a venereal disease to….I’m not sure what the issue is. I want to spend my own money to make me more efficient at work…maybe it would start some kind of populist rebellion….I’ve been told that I can make a business case that I need a wider screen, but you know me, I’m busy and I hate seeming needy. Plus, it’s almost my five year anniversary and I’ve decided I need a new chair more. That will be my anniversary present. |
It’s very exciting to launch a program and actually have it open up and be ready before I’ve lost track of what the hell I was doing in the first place. And there are letters printed on all of my keys, so I don’t have to sing the “no, not C, V, not M, no N, god donut, where’s the B?” song that I often mutter to myself, since I wear the print off those keys with my super acidic fingertips. Thank goodness I never harbored dreams of being an archivist.
But here’s the problem: I am very “who moved my damn cheese” when it comes to my computer and its workings. They’ve upgraded me and now EVERYTHING looks different. And the settings are different. Instead of launching my day with revising some contract language, I had to dig through the control panel and fix my mouse settings to keep my cursor from flying into a neighboring cube. (Gentle precise movements: not my natural default.)
My e-mails look different, all the toolbars are different….GAH! I’m like a giant toddler having a temper tantrum because she can’t find her binkie. Better in the long run, yes, but I’m already struggling with the investing in effort up front to make the end result better, this week, having spent a good part of my Halloween putting away time, cleaning out and rearranging the shed so that things that live in the shed could be put away properly and all of the crap that is no longer needed is thrown out. Which makes me feel good when I’m in the shed and it’s all neat and clean. (Well, as clean as any rotting wooden structure that sometimes harbors families of possums, used to harbor rats and at one point was the final resting place of more than a half dozen decomposing rats It’s all RELATIVE.) So, yes, huge satisfaction with the shed.
But I don’t live in the shed, do I? I live in the house and I used all my time up on the shed, so right now I’m living in a bizarre state of post-Halloween squalor, with random bits of Halloween scattered about – the pumpkin tools on the kitchen counter, various tools and props on the island, lights and cords in a heap in the outside room, strobe and wave lights in the living room, special effect light in the front door fixture, bags of candy that need to go in the fridge but just taunt me from various parts of the house, tentacles in the front window….and the soonest I can get to most of it is probably next….Monday night. Oh, and I forgot that Spike, dragger around of any bit of clothing not properly put away, is having a field day. Even clothing and costuming that I sorted and at least piled in thematic groupings: faire clothing here, travel clothing there, work clothes that need to be put away…my cat Spike is busy dragging all over the house.
You remember, Spike the Most Earnest of Cats, right? The one who used to drag the dog toys to the landing and then hump them in the middle of the night, issuing a strange combination mrowling and either squeaking or grunting, depending whether he was nailing Sheep or Hedgehog. Thankfully, his amorous intentions never got focused on the stuffed Godzilla. It’s funny to contemplate in the cold, hard, light of day…but less so when thinking about being woken up by THAT noise in the middle of the night, with a full bladder.
Well, now that the dogs aren’t around to put fresh scent on the toys, he’s lost interest in them…or rather, transferred it to my clothing. So, if I leave any piece of clothing laying around on a surface, much less the floor, he’ll mrowly drag it someplace else and have his way with it. So, unless I’m fanatical about hanging up every piece of clothing, making sure that every piece of laundry is either put safely in the hamper, in a closet or drawer, it will wind up someplace else by morning or evening. And you walk in the house, and see the clothes strewn about and thing, gaw, what a slovenly tramp! Which is bad enough. But I also know what he’s been doing with them…
And then there’s Pushkin, aka Spawn of Satan, Thud, Wombat, Goddamnit, who will grab anything with a string or cord and make off with it.
So, having just finished faire and Halloween, there are costume pieces EVERYWHERE, thanks to those furry monsters. The tutu’s made it into the bathroom, the pignose (which has a cord) is down in the living room, there are cloaks wrapped around the dining room table legs and necklaces and pouches in every corner of every room. Which is NOT where any of them started. Each day I get a little tiny bit put away, but the four footed expletives seem to find a new stash of things that haven’t been put away properly.
So, my cheese is all OVER the place at home. And now it’s all different looking on my computer screen….thank goodness it’s a short week. I need a reboot.