she's only happy when it rains & i only blog when I'm cranky
I'm tired and cranky.
Why, you may ask. Where have you been, you may also be asking.
Well, those are both completely valid questions.
Not that I feel like answering them completely, suffice to say I've been either too busy to write anything or I've felt that my life is nowhere interesting enough to deserve a blog post.
So there.
I answered that second one. In brief.
Why am I tired and cranky? Well, that's an interesting story. Let's say, for instance, that you happen to be sitting on your couch, happily enjoying a frustrating afternoon of drafting an impossible chair (in three dimensions... let's say) when your phone rings and the person on the other end takes the time to inform you that there's sewage flowing up into the building you call "work" through a shower drain.
Yeah.
Let's just say that happens.
And it happens a couple hours before you were planning on heading into work. Being the nice person you are, you haul ass into that incredible building you call "work" and stand there watching as shit and toilet paper flow up through a drain and over the tops of the shoes you deemed "shitty" enough to be shitty (hey, atleast you're not short-sighted enough to wear shoes you care about... and no, it's not on your pants. yet.).
Oh, and I have I mentioned, you are the contingency plan?
The plumber, called 6 hours prior to your arrival, has yet to show and the problem is in no way getting better.
Shitty.
I know.
I was there.
So. That might explain why I'm a little cranky, and possibly the tired part of the evening.
Not to mention I'm stuck at work until probably 1 in the AM sitting and waiting for another theatre group to be done packing up their shit and buggering off. All the while, all I want to do is head home, bundle up, go for a walk, find a playground and play on the swings.
Yes. That is my ideal end to the day. I have a sneaking suspicion that by the time I actually get outta here I'm not gonna have the where-with-all to manage a swing without falling off backward or sideways or ass-over-tea-kettle.
But the good news is the sewer problem was solved by the city (only after cancelling the orginal plumber, calling in a personal favour with another and waiting 2.5hrs for the city truck to show up so they could auger their main line to the building).
I still have a shitty green room.
But at least the city can be billed.
Some days I really wish someone had taken me aside one day in University and opened my eyes to the real job description of a Technical Director.
Fuck.
fin
Why, you may ask. Where have you been, you may also be asking.
Well, those are both completely valid questions.
Not that I feel like answering them completely, suffice to say I've been either too busy to write anything or I've felt that my life is nowhere interesting enough to deserve a blog post.
So there.
I answered that second one. In brief.
Why am I tired and cranky? Well, that's an interesting story. Let's say, for instance, that you happen to be sitting on your couch, happily enjoying a frustrating afternoon of drafting an impossible chair (in three dimensions... let's say) when your phone rings and the person on the other end takes the time to inform you that there's sewage flowing up into the building you call "work" through a shower drain.
Yeah.
Let's just say that happens.
And it happens a couple hours before you were planning on heading into work. Being the nice person you are, you haul ass into that incredible building you call "work" and stand there watching as shit and toilet paper flow up through a drain and over the tops of the shoes you deemed "shitty" enough to be shitty (hey, atleast you're not short-sighted enough to wear shoes you care about... and no, it's not on your pants. yet.).
Oh, and I have I mentioned, you are the contingency plan?
The plumber, called 6 hours prior to your arrival, has yet to show and the problem is in no way getting better.
Shitty.
I know.
I was there.
So. That might explain why I'm a little cranky, and possibly the tired part of the evening.
Not to mention I'm stuck at work until probably 1 in the AM sitting and waiting for another theatre group to be done packing up their shit and buggering off. All the while, all I want to do is head home, bundle up, go for a walk, find a playground and play on the swings.
Yes. That is my ideal end to the day. I have a sneaking suspicion that by the time I actually get outta here I'm not gonna have the where-with-all to manage a swing without falling off backward or sideways or ass-over-tea-kettle.
But the good news is the sewer problem was solved by the city (only after cancelling the orginal plumber, calling in a personal favour with another and waiting 2.5hrs for the city truck to show up so they could auger their main line to the building).
I still have a shitty green room.
But at least the city can be billed.
Some days I really wish someone had taken me aside one day in University and opened my eyes to the real job description of a Technical Director.
Fuck.
fin