If you meet the Buddha on the road and he says size doesn't matter, laugh at him...
...or how a mere two inches make the difference between satisfaction and ecstasy.
A friend's workplace is replacing all their recently-bought CRT monitors with TFTs, so last night I took delivery of a virtually new 19" monitor that cost me a princely twenty bucks. Suddenly, I have space on my desktop. I haven't yet booted into Linux to see what X' multiple desktops and virtual desktop add to the experience - I fear I may orgasm so hard that the top of my skull lifts off.
Also somewhat cheering is the fact that, ever so slowly, the world's employers seem to be rediscovering the existence of my mailbox, and the fact that I'm available. There's some hell-desk position I need to phone about tomorrow, a couple things I should mail out resumes and cover letters for, and one or two other possibilities - not terribly appealing ones, because they have nothing to do with my actual field and probably involve insultingly low pay, but I am both bored clean out of my fucking skull and probably more depressed about not working than I care to admit, so I need to do something.
My foot's healed up, by and large - there's obviously some internal scarring that's not done healing yet, because I get the odd sharp and painful twinge when climbing stairs, and the feeling in my toes on that foot is marginal at best, but the stitches are out and I can use it to kick people again. Still managed to miss a double-bill - Archive opening for Massive Attack. Blast.
A friend's workplace is replacing all their recently-bought CRT monitors with TFTs, so last night I took delivery of a virtually new 19" monitor that cost me a princely twenty bucks. Suddenly, I have space on my desktop. I haven't yet booted into Linux to see what X' multiple desktops and virtual desktop add to the experience - I fear I may orgasm so hard that the top of my skull lifts off.
Also somewhat cheering is the fact that, ever so slowly, the world's employers seem to be rediscovering the existence of my mailbox, and the fact that I'm available. There's some hell-desk position I need to phone about tomorrow, a couple things I should mail out resumes and cover letters for, and one or two other possibilities - not terribly appealing ones, because they have nothing to do with my actual field and probably involve insultingly low pay, but I am both bored clean out of my fucking skull and probably more depressed about not working than I care to admit, so I need to do something.
My foot's healed up, by and large - there's obviously some internal scarring that's not done healing yet, because I get the odd sharp and painful twinge when climbing stairs, and the feeling in my toes on that foot is marginal at best, but the stitches are out and I can use it to kick people again. Still managed to miss a double-bill - Archive opening for Massive Attack. Blast.