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Evening Things

Got out of work before midnight.
Came home.
Reconfigured purse.
Headed out for some much-needed R&R with trystan_laryssa.

Attempted to show her the Strongbad Virus episode, to explain why "Flagrant System Error. Computer over. Virus = very yes." was making me crack up laughing randomly. Failed, as homestarrunner.com seems to be down. (The system. Is down.)

So. Evening. Head massages, backrubs, tickling, snuggling. Giggling.

Crash now. Maybe more time to babble from work tomorrow. The oddly formatted posts with the excessive line breaks are post-by-email; while pretty much everyone checks their webmail from work, I've declared actual visits to the LJ site itself verboten from work, because while we are allowed to use the 'net under the agreement we signed for the IT department, we can't let that interfere with work, and LJ (reading and commenting especially) is a huuuuuuge timesuck. Post, read the mailed-back comments, respond to applicable comments in next post, and be very aware that Corporate is probably keeping track of the websites my account visits.

I turned on the Hyper-Sensitive Safety Filter in the Google Image Search just because I felt that was best for work-friendly content. I am a Good Little Fayoumis, for the most part, though when someone PLAYS WITH THE SPREADSHEETS THAT I'VE STARTED TO TAKE OVER AND TAKES OFF THE FORMULA PROTECTION, I do get rather defensive and hostile and grumble while re-protecting the sheets and setting up zones where the user can bloody well enter things when the sheet is still bloody protected.

One of these days when I have a lot of spare time, I'm going to make sure that all the sheets are set up right throughout the whole thing, and make sure that the master sheet is set up so there won't be any problems in the future. Right now I'm still about ready to string up Cute Geek Super because he left the sheets unprotected and wide the fuck open. (I know this because he was the last one to update them.)


I need to learn more Excel now.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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