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Mea culpa.

Things are going much better now that I've gotten into the groove of things. It's nice and peaceful back here except for the vacuuming. And even that's not so bad.

Sundays are good days. I think I'll see if I can't give a certain best friend a call later.




Later...

Let's see. I got in back around 11:30 or so, and didn't emerge until 1:30, really. So two hours back here in the morning. I departed for back here again at 4:30, roughly, and I'm going to be staying back here as long as I can to get these things done.

I've finished three little boxes of disks, the ones that are supposed to hold about 10 disks apiece. One of them was full of blank disks. I have about 7 boxes or equivalent bundles remaining.

Part of that time was time spent clearing things out and then writing an e-mail of shame and penance to the Powers that Be. Management likes my sense of humor, so this may reduce the amount of scolding that comes my way.

It seems that Management took notice of the new person who was writing these hilarious and consummately professional e-mails very early on. I just learned about it on Friday, when my e-mail about the mice ("Since the technologically advanced mice have been removed from the monitor rooms, could they be used to replace the simpler mice that remain in the bullpen? I believe the technical skills of the bullpen staff are equal to these mice. The [list of computers] all have older mice.") got a response of "You are so funny" from Management. I mentioned this e-mail to Stressy College Chick, and she told me the backstory about my earlier general amusement.

I'm hoping that she'll get a giggle out of this:

Backup tape needed

[Dave Matthews Band Fan Geek],

As we discussed over the phone, Commander Clueless of the U.S.S. Delete Button (yours truly) mistook a network folder for a local temp folder. There should have been no changes to the folder in a while save for today's mistake.

Please order the appropriate recent backup tape and replace the entirety of \\[]\[]\[]\Discs\


[Management],

Ooops.
Sorry. :(


My bad,
A. Lunatic
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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