2.01.2007

not one for the "happy journal"

    Every morning, I get out of bed and stumble to the bathroom. I pull on my bathrobe and poke in my contacts. I careen into the kitchen and "make breakfast", which entails nothing more than pouring a large quantity of cereal into a bowl, along with a large quantity of milk. (I do not like dry cereal.) Thus fortified to face the day, I pad into the office, turn on the laptop, plunk into the chair, and for the next 15 or so minutes, scan the blogs and read my email.
    This morning, I could not do that. My computer is, for lack of a better word, broken. It is giving some ridiculous message about 'not able to access User Profile', patently stupid since there is only one user profile: mine. I screwed around with it to the extent that I could given my reduced brain capacity at 6-something AM, but wrote it off rather quickly. I will try again after work.
    Work has been bleghy. Noisy, irritating. The temperature in this building is ungodly. The big galoot and her faithful sidekick have not yet returned from their 2-hour lunch (nice work if you can get it, hmm?), abandoning one of the nicest people in the world to work by herself. It is very cold outside. I am wearing cowboy boots, which have slippery soles and make me look either uncoordinated or just plain goofy when I walk outside.
    Hey, can you tell that I'm crabby?
    The final straw came when I logged into Blogger to write this post, and had no option but to convert to the "New Blogger." I couldn't even get into the "Old Blogger" to save my template before I did so. Ah, corporate America.
    So I'm playing The Dodgeball Mix, loudly enough that "Head Like a Hole" is audible through the wall...in the Large Print section. We have to find joy where we can, eh?

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