Under my skin

I normally consider myself to be a fairly calm, patient sort of person.  I’ve been known to be able to talk people off the ledge, as it were. When everyone else is losing their ever lovin’ mind, I can usually stay reasonably calm. Some of this I attribute to my general nature, and some to my Buddhist training.  However, sometimes something just pushes the wrong button and well, it gets ugly.

I know Sarah Palin has this effect on me.  But, I’ve learned to deal with it.  There is a support group of probably several million in this country who may feel the same way.  So, the hot hatred I have for her can usually get quenched with comedy by spending a few minutes on YouTube, or my nightly date with Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert.  Right now she is easy to laugh at.  Who knows what my reaction might be if she actually got elected.  I can’t even bear to think about it.

The other thing that gets under my skin is nothing of national importance.  In fact, it is incredibly petty. But, when I got going about it today at work, I think I scared the staff.  People just smiled at me politely and then scurried back to their offices.  So what is that got under my skin?  Our company’s parking policy, and the rather draconian measures some petty administrator is taking to enforce it.

On liars

I don’t like liars.

I know, not exactly a profund or unique stance, but I guess it gets to me when someone I know and like lies right to my face.  Damn.  It just totally bugs.

Bess and I have worked in the same office for a few years now.  Until about a year ago, we were just acquaintances, really.  We didn’t share any projects so our conversations were mostly just small talk.  I thought she was a pleasant enough girl, though she always struck me as somewhat immature.

When she was initially hired, she had her own application to support and keep her busy.  But, like a lot of other applications, hers was soon replaced and she was left without a whole lot of work to do.  Our boss then started sticking her on my projects as a “back up”.  Fine, great.  Everyone can use a back up.  If it meant my boss would feel more comfortable OKing my vacation requests, I was all for it. 

When she started working with me, we were in the middle of a big deployment which was on a very tight timeline.  It was not a good time to get someone completely up to speed, but she helped where she could.  However, I did start to notice that she had a big tendency to plead ignorance whenever faced with a more complex task that required a little brain power or asking others for some guidance.  But, I felt some responsibility for that since I hadn’t taken the time to train her thoroughly. Besides, I had started to like her personally and she was fun to hang out with.  And I can’t say that for many others in my department.

Once all the drama of deployment had died down there was time to get her up to speed.  However, whenever I would ask if she wanted to review some functions, she said she was busy helping someone else of their project.  OK, fine.  No problem.  No rush.  Wanna go to lunch?  She was always available for a long lunch.

A few months later, my manager gave her a chunk of my work and informed me that she was the lead.  I told my manager I didn’t think it was a good idea as that was one of the more complex projects and she simply did not have the experience, nor from what I could tell, the interest.  Yet, he persisted.  This would be my “big opportunity” to mentor Bess.  Gee, thanks.  But frankly, I was pissed.  I was looking forward to that project because I knew that the complexity would be a challenge.  Besides, I had been the lead on it for years, and was regarded as the expert.  But, OK, sure,   It’s just work.  I got over the blow to my ego.

Bess was told she was now in charge and that I was available to train, mentor, help, etc.  Again, I tried to set up some working sessions, but she was always busy with something else.  OK, no problem.  I understand the impulse to try and muddle through something on your own. Maybe that is just how she works.  After a while I stopped checking because I knew she wasn’t going to bite. 

As the time ticked down towards the deployment, Bess still had not done anything.  My boss told me I needed to try harder to mentor her. What the . . .?  I told him he needed to do his job since she wasn’t listening to me.  But all his attempts to manage her had failed, just as my attempts to mentor failed, so he finally told me just to finish the damn project.  For the next three weeks I busted my hump to finish a project she had been given three months to do.  And I did, because I’m good like that. 

I had assumed, as had everyone else, that the lead position was back in my hands.  Wrong.  When it came time for revisions, my manager told me that Bess was the lead and that I needed to once again “mentor” her.  Sigh.  So, for the last few weeks it’s been the same old game.  She’s always busy when I’m available to help, and will never ask me for help without prompting.  Yet, I still liked her for some reason.  That was until yesterday.

Another colleague, for whom Bess was supposedly doing work, told me that Bess hadn’t been doing any work for her for a while, and as far as she knew, no one else was giving her work.  Oh?  Then what has she been working on?  “Oh, didn’t you know?  Bess lies.  Bess lies a lot.  I’ve caught her in all kinds of lies.”  I didn’t want to believe she had been lying to me all this time, but it did explain quite a few things.

If I had any doubts, this morning they have disappeared.  The project manager, who had her own concerns about working with Bess, sent me a copy of an email where Bess said her revisions were just about done with the note to me “is this true?”.   And no, no it is not true.  Not even close to true.  The girl is a liar, an unmitigated liar. 

I’m not bailing her out this time.  If my manager asks me to again, I will be honest with him about her dishonesty.  I’m not going to be used again.

I don’t like liars.  

 

The loneliness of the H4 housewife

It was quieter than usual last Friday in the office.  My manager was MIA, and many of my colleagues were working from home.  There were no projects in the fire, so we have been in a very mellow support mode.  It was a good day to take a long lunch, or to spend some time catching up with co-worker’s lives.

I had to drop some money by Preeta’s office as my contribution to a group baby shower gift.  I’ve always had a great affection for Preeta, even though we have little in common and our contact in the office is strictly professional.  She is a bit shy, and tends to socialize and lunch only with the tight circle of the other Indian women programmers on our team.  On this quiet Friday, with her usual buds working from home, she was stuck with me.

One of our male colleagues, Rama, is going to be a dad for the first time next month.  So, Preeta is hosting a surprise baby shower for him and his wife, Amita.  Rama is another one of our Indian contractors who I like a lot.  We were on a tough project together and he was completely unshakable.  If I had a question or a problem, within seconds he was in my office with a solution, and if not a solution, at least a willingness to find one.  And he felt comfortable asking me questions about myself and American culture  and I about him and Indian culture.  He loves to give me tips on good Bollywood movies to rent, and gave me the skinny about the local cricket league.

Not all here, but not quite there

For anyone who has been paying attention to my “tweets” in the top of the right column, may have noticed I’ve been interviewing for a new job.  While I was not exactly actively looking for a new job, I’ve been bored  in my current position for quite a while now, and I’ve been less than happy with the lack of rewarding work that is coming my way. I was putting out my feelers, and looking at job postings and just generally staying open to any possibilities that may come my way.

It all started about a month ago when one of my colleagues, Bea, called me to tell me she was leaving her job.  I always really liked Bea.  She had such a sunny disposition, that the sun should be ashamed of being such a slacker.  After wishing her well I asked who was going to replace her.  The job hadn’t even been posted yet.  “So, how much does it pay?” I blurted out.  “Serious?”  “Serious.”  “Oh my god we so need to talk.”

We had a peer group meeting later that week where Bea and I spent more time outside the meeting room talking about the job and trying to set up an immediate interview with her boss.  By the time I left that meeting, my first informal interview was set up for the next day.

The meeting went really well.  I was excited.  My potential new boss (PNB) was excited.  Why shouldn’t she be? I would be managing the department that depends heavily on the web applications that I helped design, and about which I am considered the company expert.  My user community never really has used my applications to their full potential.  Now would be the chance to show the other sites how it should be done.

When the job was finally officially posted, my PNB called me at home to tell me to apply right away as it was not going to be up there for long.  She knew what she wanted, and didn’t need to sort through a whole bunch of other applicants.  We set up an appointment for my official interview.

As expected, it went well.  I came armed with solid ideas that could be implemented the day I set foot in the door and could save her department thousands of dollars.  She wanted me.  She wanted me bad.  If she had her way, we’d already be negotiating salary.

But, I work for a very large organization.  There are processes and procedures.  And lots of other people who have to get involved, particularly for a management position.  So, I wait.  I think next week I get to have one of those oh so charming panel type of interviews with a cross section of other managers I would be interacting with.  Time to break out the serious interview wear.

In the meantime, I’m trying to stay present in my current gig and act like I still care.  But I kinda don’t.  The other day I spent most of the day fantasizing about throwing myself a going away party, and wondering how all my current colleagues would hit it off with my real life friends.  I was amused at the prospects.  Oh right. I still have a job to do, and the new job is hardly guaranteed.  Right.

I guess this is a good practice.  Stay present.  Don’t get attached to something that doesn’t even exist yet, and don’t develop aversion for what is in front of you.  I just have to keep reminding myself of that.  Again. And again . . . and again.

My media diet

I’ve been on a media diet for the last week. I’ve been trying to cut back on all superfluous reading, web surfing and TV watching. And I can’t say I’ve been terribly successful.

The reason I’ve been doing is this is that I’ve been working through “The Artist’s Way – A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity” by Julia Cameron. If you’re not familiar with the book (and it feels like I’m the last person I know to pick it up), it consists of a number of exercises and practices to help find/recover your inner artist. It’s been an interesting experience so far. The main exercise for the fourth week is reading deprivation. The author states we should completely and totally abstain from reading as way letting our creative urges fill the void that we often fill with reading. OK, interesting point. But, not reading my email at work is simply not an option. That is how I’ve trained my clients to interact with me, and if I were suddenly tell them to phone me, their heads would explode. So, in the spirit of the exercise, I opted to go on a media diet instead of a reading fast. The results have been, er, interesting.

Day One: I worked from home, and I must say it was an incredibly productive day. In lieu of aimless web surfing between putting out fires, I actually buckled down and started on some work projects that I had been procrastinating on. Once I logged off from work, however, I was at a complete loss. What was I to do? I couldn’t catch up some of my light web surfing, nor could I pick up a book, nor turn on the TV. Ack! So, I just sat and listened to some music and quite literally twiddled my fingers. Finally I got up and started cleaning my floors.

Since this is a media diet and not all out deprivation, I decided to limit my television watching to only those programs that I would record, were I not home. No mindless channel surfing, or sitting down on the couch and mindlessly picking up the remote. That night I only watched Project Runway. I was so proud of myself.

Day 2: Back in the office and my diet starts to slip in terms of the internet. My intent was to only use the internet for work purposes, or the rare searches for basic information that is pertinent to the Artist’s Way program (what time does the museum open, who is doing a reading at a local bookstore, you know, that kind of stuff). No blog reading, no news, no light diversions. But on this, my mere second day on my media diet, I already started to cheat.

I have a very bad habit of Googling everything. If you are talking to me on the phone when I’m front of a computer and mention something, chances are I’ll start Googling it. It’s a bad habit, I know. A thought goes through my head, and bam! I’m Googling it. So, in lieu of being mindful and present, I slipped in a few Google searches during the day. Oh well, I’ll be better tomorrow.

Day 3: My mind is starting to gurgle and with it being Friday, usually the slowest day at work, there is little to distract it. This media diet has left me weak and I don’t have the energy to dive into those long forgotten projects that I dove into on Day 1. I give into my Googling addiction and some other light surfing in the name of artistic inspiration. Yeah, that’s it. Artistic inspiration.

Day 4: This was an easy one, I was out and about all day and evening at the County Fair with the boyfriend. Nothin’ but farm animals and bad Elvis impersonators. Ahh, this is what life was life before cable TV and internet. Farm animals and freaks. Good times.

Day 5: I felt like a damn fool waiting at my usual breakfast joint without a newspaper in front of me. “Hey, LB, are all the newspapers taken?” the waitress who knows me too well asks. “No, I’m good” I respond sheepishly as I stare a bit too thoughtfully at the flowers on the table.

That night, I watched a little appointment TV (60 Minutes, The Simpsons, Family Guy) plus a few of its friends. Hey, it’s Sunday night. I use TV to numb the pain of going back to work the next day. Cut me some frickin’ slack, will ya?

Day 6: Apparently I have given myself a pass when it comes to the diet at work. While I’m still not reading my blogs, nor keeping up with the news, everything else is game on. At home, I start to sneak in a few non-essential emails, but overall I’m pretty good. At home, appointment TV once again brings along a friend or two. I mean, come on, you gotta wash down Intervention with an hour or so of psychic teenagers to clear the palate.

Day 7: I could look at this two ways. First would be that I lost all will power and gave in to my craven time-killing urges. Or more constructively, I was starting to transition back to my normal patterns. I think I’ll go with the latter, thank you.

So, what did I learn in my media diet week? Yes, I do kill a lot of time on the internet and in front of TV. But, I do not consider reading to be killing time. I missed it the most. Yet, I didn’t cheat at all when it came to print media which is probably because I have a healthy relationship with it, unlike TV and the internet. And yes, I use them both to just numb out sometimes. And that’s not good.

However, this week wasn’t particularly conducive to my creativity. I have a folder full of blog drafts, which may get finished someday. I fixed a bracelet. And I . . . uh . . . no, that’s pretty much it. I didn’t free up my time to the extent that where I could suddenly start doing all those things I wanted to do but simply didn’t have time. Working full time, plus a part time relationship plus all that basic shit I need to do to feed myself and my critters plus keep the house from devolving into a cat box is what keeps me from more creative endeavors, not an hour or two of superfluous TV or internet surfing.

End of an era

Today our company instituted their new no smoking policy. That in itself isn’t something to be sad about. I’m not a smoker. Haven’t smoked in ages. And smoking has been prohibited in public buildings in California for so many years I can barely remember when it was still legal. But what that prohibition created was the all-too-common phenomenon of smokers huddling together right outside their place of business. I’m sure you’ve all had to pass through their cloud on your way into a building, right? As an asthmatic who is sensitive to cigarette smoke, I’ve always resented the clusters of cigarette smokers lost in their own smoky little world of carcinogens.

When my division moved to a new fancy campus a couple of years ago, the smokers were given their own little smoking section away from the building entrance. I laughed when I first saw it and quickly dubbed it the “Smokers’ Circle of Shame” (technically it was a semi-circle, but everyone got my point). Situated amidst the beautifully manicured lawn, right outside the windows of the cafeteria, was a dirt-covered area that was the smoker’s ghetto. Despite the ample open space on the campus, that the only place they could go to smoke. Being located right outside of the cafeteria, it was almost as if they were on display for us. And being that there isn’t much else on the campus that is entertaining, watching and identifying the cliques of smokers amused me.

Rarely was a smoker there by him or herself. Well, there was Al, but he always brought his work along as a companion. But otherwise, it was mostly groups of smokers. They seem to cluster according to nationality and gender. Often you find a group of Indian men (never women), which is not surprising as I would guesstimate that at least 30-40% of the employees and contractors are Indian. I never really noticed if it was the same guys every time, but when they were there, there was always at least 3 or 4 at a time. And then there were that one application team, mixed race, but native born Americans, that were always together, whether it was smoking, grabbing some coffee in the break room, or eating lunch.

But, the reigning queens of the Smokers’ Circle of Shame were the Russian women. They not only had the largest group of smokers, but they occupied the space for the most time. They are a very imposing group. Truth be told, they scare me. Obviously, they fear nothing, especially not being fired. “Verk? No, ve vill smoke and you geeve us paycheck, yes?” Nor do they fear the Fashion Police. It’s really difficult to describe their fashion sense. It’s somewhere between the Studio 54 and Nashville. I’m also guessing that the clothing sizes in Russian are a mere size or two different from ours as their clothes seem at least one size too small, and there is always a hint of flesh that is trying to burst free. But, the worst part is getting stuck in an elevator with them after one of their smoking breaks. Whether talking on their matching pink Razor phones or to each other in that small space, the heavy smell of smoke is overwhelming.

So, with the new company policy of no smoking ANYWHERE on company property, I wonder what will happen to the various smoking teams. Maybe some will decide to quit smoking. But I’m guessing most of them will probably be compliant and simply walk the 15 or so yards over to the field behind our parking lot. But, not the Russian women. I bet they’ll find a secret spot some place else on campus, steal some chairs from the cafeteria and carry on as before, because they’re bad ass like that. And I kinda admire them for it.

I’m so mean

Doris is not speaking to me . . . again.

Doris, you see, thinks I’m mean.  Doris has accused me of such crimes as calling her a homophobe, calling her mother shallow, and believing that she is an irresponsible pet owner. 

I don’t think she’s a homophobe, nor do I think her mother is shallow, and I believe she is a good and responsible pet owner. I do believe, however, Doris is crazy.

I have worked with Doris for about six years or so.  Same department, different projects.  So, most of our contact is really purely optional.  I like Doris.  She is a kind and decent person, and definitely a bit quirky.  Granted, in the “real world” we probably wouldn’t be friends as I doubt our social circles would necessarily intersect.  But, here in the work world she is one of the few people I spend any time chatting with.  That is, when she is speaking to me. 

These silent periods can last a couple of days, to close to a month, depending on how deeply I have somehow offended her.  The following exchange resulted in about a week’s silence:

Doris:  What did you do this weekend?
LazyBuddhist: Oh, I went out to Point Isabel for a walk and to hang out with all the dogs.  Sometimes I just need to have a good hit of doggy love.
Doris:  Why don’t you get a dog?
LazyBuddhist:  Well, I work full-time and live alone, I don’t think it would be fair to the dog.
Doris:  That’s not a nice thing to say!
LazyBuddhist:  What? 
Doris:  You’re mean.
LazyBuddhist:  How is that mean?  You asked me why I don’t have a dog and I told you. (Then I remembered – she has a dog and works full time.  Oh shit.)
Doris:  So you think people who work full-time shouldn’t have dogs?
LazyBuddhist:  No, I’m strictly speaking for myself, not making a policy statement or saying what is right for someone else.
Doris:  You should have kept that opinion to yourself. You’re mean.

I know I probably just should have apologized for offending her.  But, I couldn’t.  I’m stubborn that way.  Silent treatment?  Oh, bring it on.  It’s a family specialty.   My stubbornness and pride are not traits I’m proud of, yet I admit I havent’ been terribly interested in changing them.  Perhaps if I had truly been in the wrong, sure, I can swallow my pride with the best of them and do the mea culpa like no one’s bidness.  But for this? No, I don’t think so.  I always let her be the one to re-initiate contact, and everything gets back to normal.  No need for rehashing the past or holding on to grudges.

We had a good run there of being on speaking terms for a couple of weeks.  Our online chats definitely make the day go by faster.  But I have managed to offend her yet again.  I don’t mean to, I really don’t.  Yet, I have to admit I’m starting to find it slightly amusing at how completely unintentionally and easily I can get her panties in a bunch.  

Maybe she’s right.  Maybe I am mean. 

Feeling da funk

I don’t have to look far to see people who are a lot worse off than I am.  My best friend just broke up with his partner of three years and his heart is broken.  He is the midst of the kind of sadness that literally takes your  breath away and robs you of your sleep.  A colleague at work struggles with her young daughter receiving a possibly life threatening diagnosis.  My brother is living with a currently untreatable cancer.  Turning on the news, a whole  other level of suffering is exposed.  My problems are very, very small.

Having this perspective is certainly helpful . . . most of the time.  Yet, at times my minor problems can cause me some major suffering.  Right now, I’m pretty miserable at work.  Depending on the day, I feel unappreciated, bored, paranoid and/or isolated.   It’s not a pretty way to spend eight hours a day.  After my mistake of last week, I’m still feeling pretty wobbly in regards to my reputation at work.   Which combined with generally scary news about the economy, sends me into a minor panic about my job security.  I’m not having fun.

It’s truly amazing how much suffering we create for ourselves because of this attachment to a picture we have of ourselves in our mind.  In my mind, I am smart, I am capable, I am likable.  Yet, right now for the bulk of my day, five days a week,  all that is in question.  Others question it, and now I question it.  Of course, I have friends I can call that will assure me I am all that and a bag of chips.   Lately, it feels like more and more I’m needing that reassurance and I’m reaching for my cell phone on my long drive home to hear the voice of someone, anyone who cares about me. 

At work, when I can, I like to listen to dharma podcasts.  My favorite is Ajahn Brahm out of the Buddhist Society of Western Australia.  He’s a Brit who has become a monk in the Thai Forest Tradition.  He’s got a wicked sense of humor, and doesn’t seem to be big on the whole piety thing.  In the talk I listened to yesterday he was saying “suffering is asking from life what it can never give you.”  That’s it, isn’t it.  I’m asking for the rest of the world to buy into how I view myself.  I’m asking of myself to never make mistakes.  I’m asking everyone to like me and “get” me.   If someone told me that that were their expectations of themselves and the world, I would tell them that’s impossible, and it’s their silly expectations that are making them suffer.  Look in the mirror, you silly LazyBuddhist, look in the mirror.

This next week I’m taking a week off of work.  Do some work around the house, read a book, sleep in, take the cats to the vet, and then finish up the week with a lovely weekend in Carmel with my best friend.  Life really isn’t so bad, is it?

I f’d up

I messed up at work. And while it wasn’t the sort of mistake that puts people lives or health in jeopardy, it did make my company look really stupid. And when the company’s reputation is at stake people high up in the company suddenly care a lot about an application that until that time they had no idea existed. When the problem was brought to my attention, my stomach dropped. Oh shit. I knew it wasn’t going to be pretty. And it is entirely, 100% my fault.

My boss was being pretty cool about it, as was the project manager. It was a very simple mistake that was made in haste. Of the 300 or so of this type of action, the fact that only one went wrong is pretty darn good. But, the problem had been escalated far up in the company and now everything I touched was to be examined under a microscope. I had nothing to hide, but it hurt to be seen as suspect, as incompetent.

One of the eight worldly concerns in Buddhism, is attachment to good reputation. And I have that in spades. I’m fairly attached to the positive image I want others to see: smart, competent and responsible. It’s how I see myself in my work life, and for the most part that has been validated by others. However, there are less stellar aspect to my work self: lazy, disorganized and easily bored. So, with the positive image being questioned, I feel like all my negative traits are being exposed and being discussed behind closed doors. Simplistic, paranoid thinking? You betcha!

The first apology I gave to everyone was sincere. I feel awful that people are getting flack and having to answer for my mistake. However, the subsequent apologies are more of a request for absolution. My friends and colleagues have all related their fuck ups in effort to make me feel better. They have some doozies, where it could have impacted upon people’s actual health care. In the big picture, my error wasn’t so bad. But, still, it feels really bad.

In a day or two this will all blow over. But, I need to learn a bit of humility from this. There were ways this could have been prevented, but I was too bored and lazy to double check all my work, figuring I would have gotten it right the first time. I hope to regain my reputation at work, but I have to remember that I shouldn’t completely believe my own PR.

Binkies and chaat

There’s a giddy exhaustion in the air as we are within hours of installing our application into production.  No doubt it is riddled with problems, but there are no show stoppers, so for the sake of everyone’s year end list of accomplishments, the show shall go on.

When I’m feeling under deadline I need to be left alone with my music and my tasks.  However, the rest of the team is bustling around shouting excitedly moving in groups of twos and threes.  There have been a few times where it has felt like little Mubai with a gaggle of Indian programmers crowded in my office are all vying for my attention.  My manager, normally a very taciturn man, brought some chaat (Indian snacks) and tea for everyone as if he is hosting a party.

I’ve been up working for close to 14 hours now, and it’s time to go home – only to return in another 12 hours for the big production install.  I really hoped I could work from home as it is a Saturday, but my manager wants me there.  I think there will be more chaat for the afternoon and sugary treats to get us going in the morning.  I’m really hoping all goes well, because I would like to be home for dinner.

On a completely different front, my rabbit Mr. Binkles (or Binkles McStinkles, or BinkleBeast, or Binks), did a binky.  A binky is a sign of a very happy rabbit.  And while up to now he hasn’t seem to be a depressed rabbit, I have never seen him do a binky.  Considering how tired and frustrated I was this morning (another sleepless night and an uncooperative server), it was a real delight to see him just hop for joy.

For those who are unfamiliar with the binky, here is an example:

I’m too old for this shit

Ah, I remember the days when I would put in 60-70 hour work weeks with nary a complaint. I liked being at work. And since I had quit drinking, it gave me something productive to do in the evenings. I think I only finally collapsed after a few months of that pace.

Fast forward 16-17 years: It’s only been a few days of these 10-12 hour days, and I’m completely exhausted. I’m too old for this shit. I’ve only got another couple weeks of this, I believe. I’ll make it. Right now I’m at the punchy phase as are some of the programmers. Two of the guys came into my office because I had summoned them quite desperately as they walked down the hall. Lord knows what that sound was I used to get their attention. Once they got into my office, we all just looked at each other. They were still quite baffled by the noise I made, and I forgot what the fuck I was going to say. We all just busted up laughing though none of us knew why. Hey, at least I’m still laughing. Another colleague breaks out in tears whenever someone asks how her testing is going.

Despite some unpleasant holiday memories, I can tell I’m not sinking into a holiday funk merely by choice of reading materials. I’m still reading Pema Chodron. Lovely and inspirational. My choice of reading during a holiday funk? Books about serial killers. Almost like a strong sugar craving that draws you into the Krispy Kream, I would be drawn to the True Life Crime section of the bookstore. Reading about people who were more messed up than me was somewhat soothing. It made me feel like the picture of mental health.

OK, back to work.

Crazy busy

Things at work continue to be crazy busy.  We have hit the last of our extensions, so now we either get this application into production, or we all become at risk for . . . for . . . I dunno.  I know the Project Manager was told her job was at risk.  Not sure what will happen to a peon like me, but now it’s a matter of pride that we get that sucker in  So, it’s 12 hour days and weekends until at least the week before Xmas. 

Since I have to get back to work in brief here are the highlights of my week:

• Tangerine O’Feral paid me the greatest of cat compliments: a half eaten rodent.  I opened up my kitchen door to find Tangerine dashing away and placed squarely on my welcome mat a headless rat with a mighty incision running straight down his chest.  While her present was horrific, it speaks volumes as to how she views me.  Even though she fled my inside my home six months ago, she has stayed close by outside.  But, I guess she still sees me as “mom”.  Ahhhhh.
• I was tickled last night when I removed my laptop from my office to get a change of scenery while I worked offline to find that I was able to tap into someone’s wireless signal.  Woo hoo!  While I love working at home, my office chair is hard on the butt.  Much nicer to work in the comfy chair in the sunroom.   Free stuff good.
• Despite the stress at work and the impending holidays, I’m in a surprisingly good space – mentally, that is.  My house is a complete mess because the last thing I want to do after a long day at work is clean.  Even last Saturday when I had some downtime I decided to give myself a sick day.  So, for all of Saturday I never got fully dressed and spent most of the day lounging about on the couch watching home decorating shows (ironic considering the state of disarray my own home was in).  “Could you please get me some orange juice and a bowl of SpaghettiOs?  Please?  I’m sick,” I pled with the boyfriend when he came over that evening.  He didn’t buy it for a moment.  Oh well.  I tried.

Back to work! 

But first this public service announcement for my feral cat friends:

http://www.alleycat.org/savethiscat/