Zhaba Zhournal
Thursday, November 18, 2004 
Warning: Extreme mundanity below.

Not much posting or blog/journal reading this week; I've hardly even kept up on Fark.com and this week's Onion. You know how I keep saying I hate it when I have to work at work? For the past few days I've been frantically catching up on all the work I should have been doing...one of those "By the way, this project is due at the end of the week" things. (Most of my projects don't have solid deadlines, so it's easy to get sidetracked.) I barely got home in time for the Daily Show rerun at 7 p.m. on Tuesday and Wednesday (it's the only reason I leave the office before 7 sometimes). Yesterday the client actually called at 6 p.m. and told me to go home—"just send me the files and we can run the compiler here, don't stay there all night just so you can compile them." (I haven't heard anything about the files today, so I guess they were okay, and the project actually did get done by the end of the week. I'm fast when I'm actually working.)

J.'s been having one of his quasi-migraines since Tuesday morning—nausea, dizziness, but not an actual headache. He doesn't want to take too many sick days for non-headache migraines, so he's been dragging himself to work this week; I feel really bad for him, but there isn't much I can do when we're not together. (At home, we've been spending lots of time sitting very still on the couch together, reading quietly and communing with the bird; he says he feels okay as long as he's not moving.)

The bird is being even sweeter than usual; on Tuesday she actually fell asleep perched on my finger—I guess that's one of the major indications that an animal really trusts you. Her eyelids are incredibly delicate, almost translucent, with microscopically-tiny eyelash feathers. She's also been pretty good about going upstairs in her carrying cage and perching on my wrist or running around the keyboard while I'm at the computer. (Fortunately she doesn't weigh enough to press the keys down.) After about half an hour she gets antsy and wants to go back downstairs, but she's getting used to the idea that the rest of the house is safe and the carrying cage isn't a portal to a scary alternate universe.

As for me, I'm bored, hungry, vaguely discontent...I've been walking up to South St. on my lunch break every day, but I usually wind up wandering around a store not finding anything I want. I've been on an unsuccessful quest for Earl Grey green tea; I found one box, once, at Chef's Market, and haven't seen it since, there or anywhere else. I bet Twining's has a Web site that I could purchase it from, though. Someone must have a tea-selling Web site, anyway. Yesterday I went to the Headhouse Square Eckerd's and got liquid hand soap for the office bathroom, because we only had dishwashing soap, and my hands were painfully dry by the end of the day. (We kept asking my boss to get real hand soap, and he kept saying he'd get around to it, but what was our problem, the dishwashing soap said it was good for your hands; sure, if you just use it to wash the dishes once a day, but not if it's the only soap you can ever use.) Anyway, for the low, low price of $1.99, I bought actual hand soap and got the fervent thanks of everyone else in the office. (See, that wasn't hard.) I think I'm turning into the office den mother, or something; I'm the female employee who's been here the longest, which apparently makes me the go-to person for organizing goodbye parties, rounding up takeout-lunch orders, and providing any office supplies or domestic items my boss doesn't get around to buying. I guess I don't mind, but it's kind of odd to be considered responsible.

Eck; it's after 2 p.m. and I haven't had lunch. Must eat. Must get up from desk. Must get out of office, if I want to take any advantage of the non-freezing, non-rainy weather. I'll probably go to South St. and not see anything I want and get my default salad at Chef's Market. (Okay, it's been almost half an hour since I started this paragraph and I'm really, really hungry. Must eat. Must go. Really...)

[ at 2:27 PM • by Abby • permalink  ]

Yes, that's me.


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