No, it does not end well...
Yep, the freebie program couldn't find the file, so I plunked down $60 ($20 for the insurance plan and $40 for the recovery data amount of 100M) and after all that - the recovered files don't work...
So I guess I know how I'm spending *my* weekend.
But I refuse to let it drag me down anymore... it's just work. I'll crank my iTunes and shut out the world to get this stupid thing done and out of my hair...
My hair...
my poor... poor hair...
I'm getting older - it's sprouting silver on black like fissures on the surface of some long pent up dam... and I know it's thinning... I catch it in the light... If I'm going to get depressed, it's going to be about that and all the damn medical problems that plague me and mine... damn genes!
But I do love the widow's peak.
>;^)
And on a completely different note - the bathroom in my office... it's one of the great mysteries of life... will it be clean today? is there tp? is there soap? does it look like someone was murdered in there?
Mind you, it's a bit creepy going there as it is. The space we rent has one bathroom per building, so we have to take a key and walk around to the back of the building every time... You never know what's going to be back there.
And then there's the bevy of frightening, no-named, ladies in the building who have fabulous nicknames such as "smoking chick", "air freshener gal" and the oft disturbing "that someone's on her period again"!
*shudder*
But today, as I clutched the key in my fist so that it poked outwards, lest anyone attack me on the way - I had the pleasure of coming in after "that girl who forgets to lock the door". So I open the door, shout the obligatory 'hello', and proceed. It's a large bathroom with double sinks and one toilet that's separated by another door. Paranoia dictates that I always kick this door open, lest there be some creepy person hiding behind said door and waiting to smack it into my face, thus rendering me unconcious (and people think my *husband* is the paranoid one!).
So I proceed, kick in the door to make certain no one's behind it or lurking elsewhere, lock the outer door, then catch a whiff. Ah... air freshener chick has been at it again, and I noticed she's changed brands.
Now, a brief segue here... for you ladies out there, you are probably somewhat familiar with what I think of as hairspray overspray? Yes? This is that spot, probably on the floor of the bathroom in front of the big mirror, that is either a little bit dusty with hairspray buildup, or, if you just got out of the shower - a wee bit sticky when you step into it. But usually it's dry... a dry and fine powdery bit that sits on the floor until you clean up...
Yeah - did you know that's true of most aerosol products? You spray enough, you're gonna get residue...
Can you see where I'm going with this?
After making sure the ladies was safe for truth, justice and the 8-glasses-of-water-a-day way, I proceed to answer nature's call...
And sit in a thick ring of air freshener powdery residue in the place where it was sprayed the most liberally...
I nearly slid off the damn seat!
And so... I do my business, grousing... watch my hands, grouse some more, and then, upon my return to the safety of the overheated office, warn my boss about said residue. I told her how I was now sporting a nice case of 'air freshener around the ass' and that I felt all nice and clean - Lysol, take me away.
She proceeded to completely forget about this an hour later when she had to go to the bathroom.
*snicker*
It's not like I didn't warn her.
So what's the point of my tale? Hell, it's LJ - does there have to be a point?
But if there does, then I guess it's this - don't dwell on the crap... try to find the rings of fresh floral scent that make your shit bearable...
*smirk*
So I guess I know how I'm spending *my* weekend.
But I refuse to let it drag me down anymore... it's just work. I'll crank my iTunes and shut out the world to get this stupid thing done and out of my hair...
My hair...
my poor... poor hair...
I'm getting older - it's sprouting silver on black like fissures on the surface of some long pent up dam... and I know it's thinning... I catch it in the light... If I'm going to get depressed, it's going to be about that and all the damn medical problems that plague me and mine... damn genes!
But I do love the widow's peak.
>;^)
And on a completely different note - the bathroom in my office... it's one of the great mysteries of life... will it be clean today? is there tp? is there soap? does it look like someone was murdered in there?
Mind you, it's a bit creepy going there as it is. The space we rent has one bathroom per building, so we have to take a key and walk around to the back of the building every time... You never know what's going to be back there.
And then there's the bevy of frightening, no-named, ladies in the building who have fabulous nicknames such as "smoking chick", "air freshener gal" and the oft disturbing "that someone's on her period again"!
*shudder*
But today, as I clutched the key in my fist so that it poked outwards, lest anyone attack me on the way - I had the pleasure of coming in after "that girl who forgets to lock the door". So I open the door, shout the obligatory 'hello', and proceed. It's a large bathroom with double sinks and one toilet that's separated by another door. Paranoia dictates that I always kick this door open, lest there be some creepy person hiding behind said door and waiting to smack it into my face, thus rendering me unconcious (and people think my *husband* is the paranoid one!).
So I proceed, kick in the door to make certain no one's behind it or lurking elsewhere, lock the outer door, then catch a whiff. Ah... air freshener chick has been at it again, and I noticed she's changed brands.
Now, a brief segue here... for you ladies out there, you are probably somewhat familiar with what I think of as hairspray overspray? Yes? This is that spot, probably on the floor of the bathroom in front of the big mirror, that is either a little bit dusty with hairspray buildup, or, if you just got out of the shower - a wee bit sticky when you step into it. But usually it's dry... a dry and fine powdery bit that sits on the floor until you clean up...
Yeah - did you know that's true of most aerosol products? You spray enough, you're gonna get residue...
Can you see where I'm going with this?
After making sure the ladies was safe for truth, justice and the 8-glasses-of-water-a-day way, I proceed to answer nature's call...
And sit in a thick ring of air freshener powdery residue in the place where it was sprayed the most liberally...
I nearly slid off the damn seat!
And so... I do my business, grousing... watch my hands, grouse some more, and then, upon my return to the safety of the overheated office, warn my boss about said residue. I told her how I was now sporting a nice case of 'air freshener around the ass' and that I felt all nice and clean - Lysol, take me away.
She proceeded to completely forget about this an hour later when she had to go to the bathroom.
*snicker*
It's not like I didn't warn her.
So what's the point of my tale? Hell, it's LJ - does there have to be a point?
But if there does, then I guess it's this - don't dwell on the crap... try to find the rings of fresh floral scent that make your shit bearable...
*smirk*