Supposed to be cleaning the room today.

This is a larger task than might otherwise be imagined. For the past several weeks, I've been living in my office while the ferrets have gleefully wreaked destruction and horror in my bedroom.

Interesting. I just called the office 'the room.'

In any case, I think I've just done my future unborn children grievous, nasty harm. Chemical warfare of the suburban utility variety. See, it all started with not wanting to file my paper...

That's how it always starts. We need to find fifty or a hundred of the brightest people on the planet, perform a year of study on them, find out what they hate to do most of all, and (best part) figure out how to assign each that particular task with reasonable consequences for not carrying it out.

The Engines of Procrastination.

We could probably solve half the extant problems of the world, you know.

In any case, having the file the Sun Workstation box full of (cough) 'current' mail, bills, lists-of-things-to-do-NOW and the like naturally caused me to sit down in my desk chair and...pull out the tool case I've been meaning to mod into a travel case for my Powerbook for some time now.

Excellent, they have precut foam in here...great...if I rip out this section, stuff the TiBook in the bottom, I could put another layer up here with the iPod, and the digicam, and the...waitaminit, I could just put those up inside the top of the case, and it would work better. Yeh. Okay, so here's the foam frame for those, now I need to hold it in shape...ah, high-density foam from a motherboard slipcover. Perfect. Snip snip snip snip...need glue. Have rubber cement, that should be fine, it's just to hold the frame against the case some in this drawer, here, open drawer (god what a mess) and start rummaging around


hack spit gag

...what the hell was that?

Oh, God, it's PVC cement, and it's fallen open, and I just got meself two biiiiig lungfuls. Hell. Gotta go throw up.



The papers aren't filed.