So the boss and I were discussing how weird it was, that the day after the Festival, we both felt fairly chipper, but the second day after, we both feel like we’ve been hit by the Sandman’s steamroller. She’s been throwing stuff at me whenever I yawn.
I mean really, blah and blurgh. I was doing some more physical stuff yesterday, admittedly, taking the second huge round of trash from the garage clean-out (Other people may talk about Spring Cleaning, but around here it’s Fall Cleaning. That’s the only time time we can count on it being cool enough to actually pull stuff like this off and survive) to the curb. Then dragging out the water hose – we had a fair amount of rain this summer, my lawn didn’t need it much, but the wife was whining that she couldn’t get her Halloween cut-outs to stake into the ground because it was too hard , waaaaaaah. (You may think Dave Sim is rubbing off on me, but no, that was almost verbatim. I married the youngest of the family. I love her more than life itself, but oy…)
Ah, well, it would have to be done, anyway. The lawn needed the water. I turned the garden to mud – well, mud-ish, the light was failing fast – and hammered in the damned decorations. Went back inside sweatier than ever and covered in mud, and continued to go back and forth in Tweets with Zack Handlen about how much the new Word sucks. Still covered in mud. Because I appreciate contrast in my life.
Yeah, speaking of contrasts, hearing how people are cold and snow is falling in London. And me, sweating in the garden. It was still a balmy 85 degrees at 7 in the evening, and while the humidity was not up to the killing Summer levels, it still wasn’t comfortable. I could use a little nip in the air, frankly. Please note I am wearing a sweater as I type this out. The server farm remains frigid.
Well, with any luck at all, and if UPS isn’t lying, I should have a new computer – well, a refurbished one, anyway – tomorrow evening. Then I get to cackle for a bit and then mutter as I realize how many software discs I don’t have and how many passwords I didn’t write down.
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