Another Quickie (But I Promise to Do Some More Substantive Entries this Weekend)
Didn’t leave work until almost nine tonight. I’m taking Monday off, and wanted to avoid at all costs having to come in on the weekend. I already have somebody else coming in on Sunday, but if I hadn’t been able to get through the stuff left for me tonight, that might not have been enough. I’ve been dreaming of a three-day weekend for days and last thing I need is for some stupid proposal deadline to screw with it. I actually thought I’d be out by seven, but that was before I got to the last little parcel of joy in my in-basket. Somehow some fuckwit at one of the subconsultants on our team had gotten hold of a pile of formatted project descriptions and helpfully revised them by stripping out all the formatting and rearranging the document in a manner so unworkable that I can only suspect the happy helper must have been in the grip of a cerebral oedema while doing their good deed. I’d say “or at least I hope they were,” but that would be excessively mean of me. Instead, I shall wish haemorrhoids upon them. Not even particularly inflamed ones, but itchy!
So a shitty Friday night for a good three-day weekend. Things balance.
When I got home, I had Mama Dog meet me out front with Doggy Dog so that his inevitable big barky greeting wouldn’t wake the baby. She handed me his leash and I handed her my case. We kissed, and I said, “I feel like Ulysses coming home from the wars. Glad you didn’t marry anyone while I was gone.” I make such classical allusions from time to time in the hope of sounding like a guy who could knowledgeably discuss the Peloponnesian War, but in truth most everything I know about Homer I learned from comic books and the Coen Brothers (who, like me, admit to having never read The Odyssey). Well, in truth, I’m better off then Ulysses. He didn’t get overtime, for one thing. Sure, it was almost ten at night and I still had to walk the dog before I could eat my supper, but hey – those three days. I’m a happy old cur and you’ll not hear me say otherwise. I even lucked out with the walk. Doggy Dog did his business barely two blocks away, so I was able to get home and eat without having to go through twenty minutes of canine peregrinations.
I’ve eaten, and I’m knackered. I think I’m going to watch a two-day-old episode of Lost and then sack out. Gran comes to visit tomorrow, and I have three days to write a story. Don’t think that’s going to pan out, but I’m giving it a shot. I’ll also be doing some assembling and installing of baby items, doing some freelance work, hauling some stuff downstairs, and getting our tax documents together. ‘Cause I’m in my forties, damn it, and that’s the age when a long weekend is cause for excitement because it gives you a chance to do your taxes.
So a shitty Friday night for a good three-day weekend. Things balance.
When I got home, I had Mama Dog meet me out front with Doggy Dog so that his inevitable big barky greeting wouldn’t wake the baby. She handed me his leash and I handed her my case. We kissed, and I said, “I feel like Ulysses coming home from the wars. Glad you didn’t marry anyone while I was gone.” I make such classical allusions from time to time in the hope of sounding like a guy who could knowledgeably discuss the Peloponnesian War, but in truth most everything I know about Homer I learned from comic books and the Coen Brothers (who, like me, admit to having never read The Odyssey). Well, in truth, I’m better off then Ulysses. He didn’t get overtime, for one thing. Sure, it was almost ten at night and I still had to walk the dog before I could eat my supper, but hey – those three days. I’m a happy old cur and you’ll not hear me say otherwise. I even lucked out with the walk. Doggy Dog did his business barely two blocks away, so I was able to get home and eat without having to go through twenty minutes of canine peregrinations.
I’ve eaten, and I’m knackered. I think I’m going to watch a two-day-old episode of Lost and then sack out. Gran comes to visit tomorrow, and I have three days to write a story. Don’t think that’s going to pan out, but I’m giving it a shot. I’ll also be doing some assembling and installing of baby items, doing some freelance work, hauling some stuff downstairs, and getting our tax documents together. ‘Cause I’m in my forties, damn it, and that’s the age when a long weekend is cause for excitement because it gives you a chance to do your taxes.
posted by PapaDogDuvalier | 10:50 PM
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