(no subject)

I'm feeling pretty crapful today. Work has been getting me down for some
weeks now, and it's not getting any better. I've got cramps, and my
head's not functioning, so of course today is the day I get "invited" to
a status meeting on the overdue project. I don't know how to get back
into the game today. Nothing's making any sense at all. I just wanna go
home and take a nap. Not even a Nap, at this point. Just a crawl under
the snuggly covers and hide from the world.

On the bright side, Terry is okay with the altered schedule for Friday,
but I can't get very excited about that right now either. I dread the
seven a.m. start time with an overwhelming cold dread. Friday afternoon
will be nice...it's the getting there that's going to suck lava rocks.

Rosie said something last night that hurt me. We bought a copy of Terry
Pratchett's book "Where's My Cow?", and after reading it at dinner, were
playing silly buggers with the idea in the car on the way home.

"Is that my Rosie? It goes 'Four score and seven years ago, our
forefathers brought forth upon this continent...'. It's Abraham Lincoln.
That's not my Rosie!

I elide the bits in which I tried a duck, an Indy car, John F. Kennedy,
and a hoptikeller.

"Is that my Rosie? It says 'I love you mommy!' That's my Rosie!"

She did "Is that my mommy?" I forget all her silly 'mistaken
identities', but when she eventually found me, she said "Is that my
mommy? It says 'Rosie honey, I have to go to work.' That's my mommy!"

(no subject)

That could've been way worse. I was expecting to be lectured and/or
reprimanded for missing the deadline. All I got was, "What's the
approximate percent complete?" and "I realize you've been pulled away
onto other critical projects; what's the new ETA?" It was barely a
five-minute conversation.