It wasn't me. You can't prove anything.


2009-08-28

Very Local News

Nat gave me a ride in to work this morning. It had rained in the early hours of the morning. I had told her about my previous day's high stressl leaves and she, being a dear, gave me a lift this morning so I would not have to deal with the mud. Nat had to tell Elle not to hold the door for everyone this morning. Elle apparently held the door for a bit too long yesterday to let every one else in. Nat was worried she would miss breakfast.

I set up a computer at work that had Windows on it. That doesn't sound like much. The software to be used on the machine is so proprietary that the machine had to be set up a couple times to make the paths right. A bunch of software has to be installed just right. A bunch of scripts do a bunch of path voodoo to move information from point A to B. Several bits of software have to be installed so the scripts can use them. I bet $5000 worth of software is on that box to make the batch files work. It scares the crap out of me. I'm just not impressed with the amount of work that has to go in to this one box to save a bunch of work. I do not even know wheat they are trying to do. I hope it all ends up working in the end. I do not want to set that server up ... again.

The apartment complex behind work had men on the roofs. They were removing the blue tarps and putting down a new roof. I couldn't tell if they were putting down a whole new roof or if they were just covering the bad spots. I have two friends who live there so I hope them the best of shelter in this hurricane season of 2009 and beyond. I have a fantisy of the last nail being driven in a pounding rain storm.

Apologies for all the Very Local News posts. I've felt stressed by work lately more than normal. My attention span is shortened and I think I'm addicted to pop-tarts. There is no excuse. I will try to write something more substantial than these short blurbs in the near future. one would think that posting on Twitter would satisfy the need to brain dump the short ideas. Then again, the itch of needing to get it out or "down on paper" may be satisfied too easily these days.


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