Today was a work day, but I worked from home. I completed my edit of Tracey’s FIM document. Yay!
I went to Carmichael with the intention of only walking for an hour, since my back was hurting a little bit today.
I took an 800MG ibuprofen before going. Once there, however, an open elliptical machine had my name on it, and I obliged it. I burned off 500 calories in 30 minutes. Who’s counting?
I sweated like a stuck pig. Uh, that would be a mixed metaphor.
| What’s a metaphor? “Why, growing flowers, of course.” Ba-dump bump. We’re here for one more night, folks. |
It’s either: “Sweat like a pig,” or “Bled like a stuck pig,” but not “Sweat like a stuck pig.” But I digress…
AnyHOO, following that, with a huge u-shaped sweat ring on my t-shirt from my neck down to my belly-button, I walked for 30 minutes. One or two drops of sweat may have fallen off me during my brisk walk, but I did not spit on the walls or floor of the track.
I finished up the leftovers by creating another round of “Nachos Supreme.”
At 9:30, I ran out to work to scan in and e-mail Tracey’s document to myself, so that I could forward it to her.
The first scan made it through about 17 pages of the 75-page document before jamming. The second scan made it through 72 pages of the 75. Scan lost.
Now, what was supposed to take about 10 minutes has taken 30 minutes so far.
Process improvement: I scanned in through Chapter One. Then, Chapters 2 and 3. Then, 4 through 6. Then, Chapter 7, and finally the three appendices, which were very short, and two of which contained “boilerplate” information that I didn’t edit.
I left work at 11:00, and got to Flex just before 11:30. Joeesha and David showed up at about 11:50, with Kevin (av8rdude) on his heels.
Busted Cherry, who is a huge “No Ma’am Ticket,” (with attribution to innoman) hosted the show. I swear to god; she’s like, so, like totally grating…
Kevin, Joe, David and I pretty much hung out all evening, with (“Twin Sons of Different Mothers”) Steve popping in and out of our group/conversation all night. Bless his mess.
Early in the evening, I overheard a girl, evidently in response to the question, “What do you do,” respond, “I teach, like, second graders.” I wondered what’s keeping them from being actual second graders as opposed to only being like second graders. But I digress yet again…