shaver

I’m really starting to get into this whole “fire-fighting” thing. Robert is all over the recovery stuff now, and I’m sure he’ll do a much better job with it than I did. My energies are now focused on Total Customer Satisfaction: helping our clients put Lustre through all sorts of sick, physicist-and-biologist-derived paces, and then helping wipe up when Lustre just can’t quite contain its excitement. Things are going pretty well, but there’s the occasional, well, occasion in which things don’t go according to anyone’s plan. Even the sort of plan one might plausibly construct retroactively in order to rationalize the results one found lodged in the side of one’s head after a particularily energetic software explosion.

Those occasions are sort of fun, though, because I get to get on the phone with Phil and Zach and read through megs and megs of lock-manager skid marks, until they figure out what the problem is and I run off to do my part: add bug graffiti. I feel like one of the nameless coroner’s-office folk on CSI, just taking the bodies away when I’m told it’s over. Fun stuff.

Season finale of Angel tonight, and game 2 of the Eastern Conference finals, and the all-over-but-the-forum-screaming penultimate episode of Buffy. And the new Matrix movie opens this week, and I’m actually interested in the West Wing again, and Tyla’s enjoying her job, and the cat is being all friendly. And I got my hair cut, and George is coming to visit, and I’ve been cooking up a storm.

I guess it has to all come tumbling down now.