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Things About Tuesday

Paperwork was not so dire. Was something like on time. Had gotten the Morning Star Reports done the day before, so not with the crazy-lot of things to do. I was plugging away steadily at things, and had progressed into "things that need poking at for administrative reasons" when I had to go see Pink Shirt Guy about the prototype I'd developed for the thing, where "the thing" involves heavy record-reconciliation between two systems that weren't intended to talk to each other directly but were intended to actually be the same thing.

I noticed, as I went in the direction of his office, that there were two phone goons sitting in the hallway, and it was 1 pm. I acknowledged them as I went past, and as I went out the security door at the direction of the office, something started to connect. "Wait... it's 1." "There's no list up." "Hey, they're Spanish-briefed." "I seem to be the only supervisor in the general area of the bullpen."

By the time I hit Pink Shirt Guy's office, the clue dropped. "OMFG they're here for $GEOGRAPHIC_ISSUE_SIDE_JOB, and there's no supervisor for them here and they don't have their booths and the job's not set up!" I conveyed, and exited the office at a dead run.

Now, me at a dead run is something to behold. I am distinctly plump. I have seriously boobtacular boobs. To glance at me casually, one would not immediately consider the idea of me at speeds above a brisk walk or a reluctant jog. However, when I am motivated to go somewhere very fast, I adopt a position slightly reminiscent of my fencing days and go very very fast without horribly significantly changing the level of my torso in the process. (This prevents uncomfortable boobie whiplash.) I ran in about three different directions, not quite at once but close to it, and got the phone goons and their job set up. Fortunately, it wasn't a complicated job, and I've set it up several times. I had to get the Princess to start up the dialer, since it's been forever since I've done it, and I've only done it a few times.

Everyone was very amused. When I panic, innocent bystanders giggle. Lots.

Paperwork was hashed over. I went home early-ish, expecting to possibly prepare for anime night.

There was no anime night. The upgrade path did not go smoothly, there is some bloody obscure error in the boot sector, and the dudes at the geek shop are slightly boggled but are going to be looking into it tomorrow if we don't sort it out first. We hit Fry's Electronics, got an IDE-to-USB cable, and ... that is not working so well. It recognizes that it's a storage device, beeps in, then near-immediately says that there's a problem (unspecified) and beeps out. The thing is getting power. It's securely in the socket. What gives!

The tech anti-joy is not a good thing. I am ... not entirely well. I've been stretched too far, socially -- nothing's been done or said that was wrong, not by anyone -- just, I'm an introvert, not an extrovert. There has been stress, from the damn tooth through the company party through just too many nights out of the home base and not enough time spent recharging and really not enough serious time spent with the people who a) don't set off my shields, b) have no need to be shielded from, and c) restore my ability to shield and cope. The criteria keep narrowing down there. The more frazzled I am, the more need I have to shield, the more likely someone is going to set off the active stuff, the less socially pleasant I am, and therefore the more likely it is that I bring down some Bad Social Funk. And the more likely I am to shield inappropriately. After Saturday, the funkiness I noted in the bond? Almost entirely due to me shielding internally to the bond, which Just Should Not Be Done Without Really Good Reason. Contributed massively to a headache, too. I'd fixed the lack of water/ibuprofen/physical relaxation, but it was still Really Very There; the *moment* I took down the damn extra shield, *poof* the fading started and soon I was near good as new.
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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