I headed into the office at about 11 this morning,
better-rested than I probably deserved — I think Tyla and I are both
fighting something off, and it’s going pretty well so far — and full of
Lustre ambition and energy.
When I got to the office, I discovered that someone had secretly poisoned my
grand plans and enthusiasm with a huge pile of suck. Coop and I
thought that the construction workers had just “accidentally” kicked
the power out again — no mean feat, considering that I had to use both
hands to get anything out of that extension cord, but these are
trained professionals — but instead it turned out that the power supply
had blown. I’m no level 3
CSI, but I think the huge pile of drywall dust and pebbles that
came out when I applied a quick gust of breath might be involved. Or
maybe it’s just because when they plugged my computer back in after the last
interruption they skipped the UPS thing entirely, and I just took the brunt of a
surge? I was not really in for an extended session of “why?”, and Fixy got me
back on track with a new power supply in no small hurry. He’s such a champ.
The drywall dust, of course, was not confined to the interior of my
computer’s case. My laptop case was covered in dust as well, and my laptop, and
my keyboard, and my chair and … you see where I’m going with this. I know
they had drop cloths, because I insisted they dig them out before standing over
my desk with a trowel and plaster, so I have no clue what sort of incredible
manifestation of incompetence was involved in the previous days’ activities.
(I also had to make it clear to the intrepid saboteurs that they should make a
list of all the people in the world with whom they could have an “it’s OK, we’ll be careful” conversation,
and make sure that my name appeared dead last. If at all.)
I think the compressed air got most of the drywall dust out of the gaping
PCMCIA bay in my laptop. I’ll find out later, when I’m brave enough to try the
When it became painfully obvious that “just a few minutes” of ceiling
reconstruction was going to turn into several hundred thousand dollars of
opportunity cost, I packed up my laptop and headed home. (This was the part
where I discovered that someone had helpfully tried to wipe my laptop case off,
thereby scratching the living crap out of the front of it.) Once I got settled
back at the house, I realized that my fury had been concealing the fact that my
eyes had been sanded and left to bake in the sun. Tyla’s eyedrops helped a lot,
and then I stopped wanting to call in an air strike on the office.
(Seriously, though, guys: drop cloths for invasive drywall work. This
is not a lot to ask.)
I’m working from home tomorrow, inlaws or no inlaws.
Tyla was at least as cranky and tired as I was, so I took off to do the
remainder of the Christmas grocery shopping by myself. Maybe they have some
sort of Stepford Spray at the
entrance, but I don’t really care; Whole Foods put me in a wonderful mood.
I got precisely nothing done at work today, and no doubt impeded Coop’s
productivity to no small degree. I don’t think he should be worried
about his first
check-in; I think the test I checked in for mine is still
broken. If I don’t do some work tonight, Phil and Peter are going to sober up
and fire me. So I either have to hack like a demon, or send them some wine.
(I have no evidence other than my own experiences at Peter’s that they’ve