Wednesday, June 19, 2002

Cubs Lose, I Lose

The Cubs just had to go into extra innings today. I think they planned it, so rush hour would be extra-clogged with beer-soaked clods leaving the game. 90/94 was extra jammed today on the way home because of it. Two hours it took me to drive home. Two of them. TWO. And it's not even snowing.

To make matters worse, I get on the gridlocked road and the humidity is so thick I kept checking my floorboards because it felt like I might be taking on water. So I turn the air conditioning on, but with the windows open. Bad Idea. I've just created my own little storm-front in my car, where the cold, humidity-free air impacts the hot, muggy air. That storm front is pretty much right where my face was. The body decided it had had enough, so it sent a message my brain couldn't ignore, in the form of a migraine. Whee!

That's what I get for leaving work early, I guess. What else could I have done? I had nothing to do at work today. Literally nothing. It was leave early and sit in traffic for two hours, or sit at my desk trying to find something to do for two hours, and then driving home for another hour. Want to know what I did today? I cleaned off the desk that I am going to be moving to tomorrow, and I decided to finally organize my bookmarks folder, which I haven't done in the year and a half I've been working there. Imagine stretching those two activities over seven hours. I could have moved myself into my new desk space today, but then I wouldn't have anything to do tomorrow. I'm trying to space these things out, y'know. Can't do everything at once. Then there won't be any reason for me to be at the office tomorrow.

I tried watching some demo videos on how to use Maya (the new 3D software package we're going to be using for our next game), but I think they're narrated by the teacher from Ferris Bueller's Day Off. You know the one. Only this time he's saying "Bowler......Bowler....anyone?....Bowler...". These things are a more effective sleep-aid than a Bob Ross Magic of Oil Painting marathon after downing a cocktail of Nite-All and Thunderbird. They're showing everything I don't need to know to do my job effectively, and nothing I do need to know. It's like attending an advanced mechanic's class where they first teach you how to drive the fucking car. Chapter Two: How to Roll Down the Window.

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