Happy Neil Armstrong Day!

This was one of the busiest days of my life.

It started with dropping off more USF library books and grabbing some supplies at the grocery store — having alerted the office that I would be in half an hour late.

When I got to the office, I found that the work I’d done yesterday (almost an 11-hour workday, a great rarity for this employer) was getting even more complicated and puzzling than it had been. I came up with a temporary solution involving <a href="javascript:alert('Annoying message'); document.location='newURL';">, for which I really ought to be kicked off the Interwebs.

While all of this was going on, I was also fielding phone calls from several different employees of one major customer, asking when please would our vendor solve their problem. And I was on the phone with the vendor, of course.

And also while all of that was going on, I was slicing and dicing XML/XSLT on a different server altogether, analyzing the XML input and finding out that the data I wanted to display just wasn’t in there. So I decided to insert a big ol’ <xsl:choose> block that would look at the library code in the XML (‘fyr’) and return a string (‘Safety Harbor Public Library’).

The afternoon was a bit quieter, but a minor-sounding request at 4:30pm turned out to be quite interesting (if you’re a geek): our web server’s Sendmail queue had a deferred message for somedomain.org because our DNS server thought their MX was mail.somedomain.org.somedomain.org instead of just mail.somedomain.org. I figured out how to flush the DNS cache, and I restarted Sendmail on the web server. When I did an MX lookup from the web server, I got the right answer, but Sendmail didn’t seem to have caught on. So I punted to Red Hat (I’m so glad we pay $800/yr for RHEL tech support), and I’ll look at it in the morning.

Finally, at 5:15pm (I added lots of stuff to iTunes in the afternoon, and it took a while to sync my iPod), I headed home. A startlingly cool wind blew as thunderstorms edged around me. There was little traffic. A few miles from home, at a red light, I saw a cosmic goatse: a huge, roiling, dark gray raincloud with a small aperture through which the brightly lit cloud behind it shone through. And I got home in time to take Amanda to the apartment complex’s clubhouse.

The phrase ice cream sundaes is so wonderful that it is not easy to make the words any happier. There is at least one way, however: begin with the word free. I had Blue Bell chocolate ice cream, telling the scooper that I had seen the factory it came from in Sylacauga, Alabama just a few weeks ago. I added two finger bananas, some walnuts, and some much less healthy delights. As the clock falls further from 12 midnight, I can assure you that there remains of my sundae not a single calorie.

In brief, lest I bore the readers who have been good enough to read this far: I have

  • seen every square inch of the closet floor,
  • measured gobs of clothing to decide what to box up,
  • found some postage stamps — 33-cent stamps, mind you,
  • covered a queen bed with a two-foot layer of stuff that had been in the closet,
  • moved my dresser into my half of the closet (“There is a ‘your half of the closet’?”, Jodi joked by phone),
  • conceived a plan for making room for at least one more bookshelf,
  • rearranged the shelves on the bookshelf already in the bedroom,
  • driven to Wesley Chapel to pick up a prescription refill mere minutes before the pharmacy closed (and also bought some cleaning supplies),
  • found a missing library book and serendipitously picked a useful passage to prove to Jodi that I really did find it,
  • reprogrammed the wi-fi router from channel 1 to 11 due to 2.4GHz phone interference, concluding that it’s time for a 5.8GHz phone,
  • moved a two-foot layer of stuff off of the queen bed (things fall apart; my momentum could not hold, and mere anarchy was loosed upon the bedroom floor — which had already grown comfortable with that state of affairs),
  • hatched a cunning plan for keeping Hello Drusilla’s shoes on using magnets and a sewing kit,
  • and finally, whistling the end theme from Doogie Howser, M.D., relaxed by typing up a nice long LJ entry.

Oddly, it was only when I was typing this entry — not any other time tonight — that I sneezed from the dust. I suppose my guardian angel had wisely gone to bed. I shall follow. Tomorrow I will probably be late for work again, as I must courier Jodi’s term paper to campus before her professor goes to Germany for the rest of the summer. But then comes the weekend.

And the weekend will probably make today look like indolence.

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4 Comments

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4 responses to “Happy Neil Armstrong Day!

  1. jitterbug5bi5

    moved a two-foot layer of stuff off of the queen bed (things fall apart; my momentum could not hold, and mere anarchy was loosed upon the bedroom floor — which had already grown comfortable with that state of affairs)

    Lmfao.. ^_^
    Awesome. Heh, I should really reread that.. I remember it being really good.

  2. sylvar

    Here you go: The Second Coming (Yeats)

  3. heathrow

    What a day!

  4. danasdream

    One of my favorites. These lines often seem to ring true for me:

    “the best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.”

    Dana

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