35 hours and floating.
Saturday morning I decided it was time I bit the bullet and rebuilt the mail server. I’m now 35 hours from that squishy bed (4 inches of memory foam) and the server to any outside folk looking in appears to do exactly what it did before. That’s good because there was a few hours during this weekend where I though I may have done a badun. Specifically Saturday late afternoon when I stopped for lunch with Kerry and we popped into Iceland, I had in mind getting ice cream to make a coffee milkshake. Kerry pointed at the stack of 3lt tramp ciders and uttered... I dare ya. So Saturday evening I sat with a litre and a half of delicious coffee milkshake in my belly chugging back 3ltrs of blackthorn fizzy sulphur juice (the internal reaction felt like a mentos in coke thing) and staring at the task of transferring dns records to a new name server without all terribleness happening. Somehow everything seems to have worked out. I’m now floating in the hot tub, twinkling lights above, whisky to hand and wondering what happened to the good weekends.