Somewhere, anyway. Possibly because it’s always alcohol-o-clock somewhere in the world. Or maybe because another mid-week has passed and I’m getting closer to the weekend again.
Of late, the cats have adjusted where they sleep somewhat, with Midnight claiming the prime spot by the space heater (latest on the heating saga is that installation of the new gas heater is scheduled for March 3, with an option on moving forward if there’s a cancellation). In the meantime, it’s the two space heaters plus me wrapping myself in the cozy blankie and spending most of the day with said blankie having it’s own electric heat turned on.
I will be exceedingly thankful to have a somewhat more potent way to heat the study. Her Highness Princess Buttercup will probably lament the loss of her personal heated lap, since she likes to park herself on mine, particularly when I have the blankie on. And when she’s not stealing my hair tie.
Since Her Highness will still park on my lap when she wants it, I’m quite sure I’ll survive her displeasure. She wouldn’t want to lose her lap, after all. That would mean she’d lose easy access to the free petting. And the shorter jump to get to the desk, where she can steal my hair tie if I’m not facing straight ahead.
I’m not entirely sure what the attraction is for the hair tie, but she’ll steal it given half a chance, then she’ll kill it, and I’ll find it half the house away looking rather the worse for wear – if I’m lucky. There are some that were never seen again.
And now I’m thinking of elderly hair ties telling their grandchildren of the terrible demon creature with fierce claws and teeth that steals them away from their rightful place, and leaves them to die alone, never to be useful again. The horror of it all! What is the world coming to, when a poor innocent hair tie can be stolen and murdered so?
I’m going to guess in this scenario the much rejoicing would be performed by the fearless kitteh that stalked the fearsome hair tie and pulled it away from Mommy so it could be killded and not do strange things to Mommy’s hair any more.
Which is, I guess, a rather bizarre example of the truism that everyone is the hero of their own narrative.
It does help – even when it might not seem to be so – to remember that the world where your feet get cold is the one you really have to pay attention to. And that whoever’s been giving you crap this week might just be casting you as the current antagonist (I hope not. Much better to be background color. Background color doesn’t get targeted, although it is prone to being redshirted in certain types of fiction). Or they could just be having a bad week.
I know I have to sit hard on my tendency to emit heavy sarcasm when I’m having a bad time of it. Others have… issues with the level of sarcasm. Even when I flag it as such. I mean, what part of “We’re massively understaffed and don’t have enough bodies to keep pace, but you want us to add Big Shiny New Feature? Shall we walk on water for you as well?” is excessively negative?
Anyway, enjoy the rerun of Her Highness claiming my laptop case. She requires your adulation, after all.
That’s merely conversational sarcasm. It’s barely scathing at all!
True exhibitions of fluency are much spicier.
What do you do when the cat doesn’t want to be let out of the bag?
You close the bag so the cat Can Not Get Out Of The Bag!.
Then after the cat complains, carefully open the bag and stand back. 😈
I advise that only if you do not care what the cat does in the bag.
There’s that. 😈
You let it be.
You let the cat decide when it wants to get out of the bag. Any other option leads to blood (yours) and a shredded bag.
> you want us to add Big Shiny New Feature?
“Sure, we can do that. Which ongoing projects do you want us to drop or delay so we can allocate resources to your new task?”
On a personal note, the Director of IT called me to his office and asked how long it would take for me to accomplish a project. I SWAGged it at six weeks. He said he’d get back to me later.
A couple of times after that we’d pass in the hall, etc., and I asked if he’d made a decision yet. Nope, don’t worry about it, he’d let me know.
At five weeks and four days, on a Wednesday, he called me back to his office and asked if the software was ready yet, because they were going to set it up over the weekend. I told him no, I was still waiting for the go-ahead and some sample data to work from. Which was apparently not his new recollection at all, but I had written notes of our meeting and of our passing encounters, and they were in the three-ring binders in my cube. Binder Guy FTW again.
Turned out he had promised someone we could have it all ready by Friday, and why couldn’t I pull a finished and debugged chunk of code out of my hat? And why did I need sample data anyway? [this from a Ph.D. in CompSci…]
“If you’re telling me you want me to go ahead now, I’ll need six weeks from the time I get the sample data to work from.”
I was dismissed summarily, and the task was turned over to someone else. They spent eight weeks nibbling around the edges, then hired an outside contractor to do it.
My continual amazement isn’t that companies fail, but that they manage to stagger along for as long as they do…
That makes at least two of us. I spent some time today explaining that yes, some of the sprint tasks need adjusting because there’s been a chunk of other fiddly things that weren’t much on their own but collectively ate a lot of time that would normally have gone into a catch-all time-bucket that I don’t have this sprint.
In other words, if you don’t want me to include the time spent waiting for someone to approve things or trying to work out how to sensibly do what the boss’s boss is asking for in my estimates, don’t be surprised when three rounds of it plus extra time to shovel my way out of the drive in order to _get_ to the appointment I didn’t expect to have when I did the sprint estimation plus two unexpected all-hands company meetings leaves me with more work than there are hours left to do said work.