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I can tell that you taste like the sky, 'cause you look like rain.


My favorite internet radio station is down for several days due to some hosting issues, so I'm back to listening to the MP3 files that I have loaded on the work machine. Among them is Morphine, which I have a new-found affection for. Smoky, deep, jazzy and hypnotic, perfect music for a late night liason with that brunette in the red dress with the deep dark eyes.

Of course it's the middle of the day here at work, and if I turn around I am looking out a big glass doorway into a parking lot and a swamp surrounded by trees, bright as an overcast day can be. It's a bit of cognitive dissonance, like a cold splash of coffee in your lap of luxury.

One of the things that the remodeling advisor suggested was taking one room and turning it into a sanctuary, a place to go where everything is ordered and complete and isn't a constant reminder of things that need to be done.

Sounds like an excellent idea. Of course, there is the danger that I'd never leave that room.

Office lighting sucks. It's cold and harsh, not friendly at all. I want darkness and texture. I want to light my cube with a series of individual halogen pin spots so I can adjust the lighting for my own comfort and less eye fatigue, maybe throw in some christmas tree lights for a low-level ambient glow. The only current saving grace is that a few of the bulbs are burned out, so it is a little darker than normal, which makes it easier for me to slip into focus mode.

Apparently I am a children of the night. Or perhaps I ate one somewhere along the way. Cooked properly, they are tender and juicy.

Renewing the prescription for the Avandamet is I think a good choice. I feel better than I have in a while. Part of that may be the music, since I've been pretty much isolating myself behind headphones all day. It's annual review day-- a few months late since the boss-man has been rather busy-- and I suppose I'm distracted because of that. I generally hate annual reviews since they all tend to be the same (here's some stuff we like, here's some stuff you need to improve), and there's always this feeling of getting called into the principal's office.

I've still got one good arm that I can beat myself up with


I want a real weekend. One free of obligations and duties and work-to-exhaustion-and-pain. I also have 64 hours of vacation left, so I could in theory burn some vacation days, but I'd really like to save some up for an actual go-the-hell-away-somewhere vacation for a couple of weeks. I know I'm gonna want to burn a couple of days yet this year: one over Christmas week, one around Omegacon time. And maybe next year would be a good time to do a go-away kind of celebration.

But maybe the time that I want off isn't celebratory, but more of a breather. More of a downtime thing, a rest in the midst of extended work.

Hey, Labor Day is coming up, ain't it?

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