It was a Tuesday.
I arrived at a vaguely reasonable hour, and then did vaguely reasonable things. There was the 1:1 with my manager, where the room got sort of awkwardly pre-empted by people somewhat higher up who were apparently hoping to just have a quiet cup of coffee together. (We were the ones who wound up outside because while I'm sufficiently faceblind and unfamiliar with the galaxy of changing people up top, my manager is neither.)
Crunch mode on that thing is done for the month, and other stuff has been juggled. Next I get to have fun with juggling schedules! Yay! We still haven't gotten final word on our destination in the new building. I have got boxes, though, so at least I can start with that.
Yet another of my teammates is getting married in the upcoming weeks, and according to her wishes, there will be no trips down to the duck (in every sense of the word) pond.
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jd's Eurovision party has been scheduled! Yay!
In the lull between things, I am working on getting somewhat organized again. And thus I proceeded until my brain and body were both asking me why the fuck I was on about this again.
Given that it's been crunch mode and I've been tired, I've let my step count slip. I also let my laundry schedule slip some, resulting in today's arguably gaudy pairing of the bright magenta shirt and the undersea blue-green skirt. It goes! But it's not my raven-sober usual look. (The conversation that goes "Yeah, I've been letting all kinds of stuff slip. Just look at me!" "Huh?" "No, seriously, look at me." "Laundry?" "Yep." depends on a working knowledge of my usual style.)
"Color blocking" as a fashion, even when it doesn't make you look like a Frank Lloyd Wright (or Vasa) stained glass (in the bad way), introduces so many opportunities for someone to make an utter hash of their wardrobe. I'm talking Cecil Gershwin Palmer fanon bizarre. Purple and I got to talking about the possibilities inherent in cultivating a look which was deliberately that awful, so that someone looking at their wardrobe might go "YOU HAVE ALL KINDS OF THINGS WHICH GO TOGETHER WHY DON'T YOU EVER WEAR THEM AT THE SAME TIME!!" because that sort of thing amuses us. (This apropos of my wardrobe, in which you could find things which go together poorly, but you'd have to try on purpose.) (Though the off-light-blue cotton workplace fitness challenge shirt with the neck cut out which fits too tight in the tits over the really elegant black and silver lace skirt would probably do it, especially if I threw in a bright pink boa and the purple glitter clogs.)
There's a certain amount of geek-culture cred to being able to correctly name which series of Star Trek the only color block shirt I own (unintentionally) goes with. Somebody had to google it. *smug look*
The Stage Manager has been telling me I'm evil. This may have to do with the doughnuts (no one wanted the last half, it seems like), the peeps, or the jellybeans. I'm not sure which. He snagged the last of the blue peeps, so I opened the purple peeps. (The pink peeps are next.)
I had occasion to mention to someone that the other uncle-manager was kind of an intense guy, and had more than once made me feel really stupid from the questions he was asking me which I ought to have been able to answer, and my complete inability to say anything while so very suddenly on the spot that made any sense. One either gets used to that (or pushes back, which is probably a better strategy), or one does not. But this is a thing to be aware of when having dealings with him.
It was still light out when I started meeping and wobbling. I'm not used to that happening except on 2nd Thursdays.
It occurred to me in the shower that my current love/romance/partner/Very Important People type situation could be summed up with a simple diagram. ( Read more... )
I arrived at a vaguely reasonable hour, and then did vaguely reasonable things. There was the 1:1 with my manager, where the room got sort of awkwardly pre-empted by people somewhat higher up who were apparently hoping to just have a quiet cup of coffee together. (We were the ones who wound up outside because while I'm sufficiently faceblind and unfamiliar with the galaxy of changing people up top, my manager is neither.)
Crunch mode on that thing is done for the month, and other stuff has been juggled. Next I get to have fun with juggling schedules! Yay! We still haven't gotten final word on our destination in the new building. I have got boxes, though, so at least I can start with that.
Yet another of my teammates is getting married in the upcoming weeks, and according to her wishes, there will be no trips down to the duck (in every sense of the word) pond.
jd's Eurovision party has been scheduled! Yay! In the lull between things, I am working on getting somewhat organized again. And thus I proceeded until my brain and body were both asking me why the fuck I was on about this again.
Given that it's been crunch mode and I've been tired, I've let my step count slip. I also let my laundry schedule slip some, resulting in today's arguably gaudy pairing of the bright magenta shirt and the undersea blue-green skirt. It goes! But it's not my raven-sober usual look. (The conversation that goes "Yeah, I've been letting all kinds of stuff slip. Just look at me!" "Huh?" "No, seriously, look at me." "Laundry?" "Yep." depends on a working knowledge of my usual style.)
"Color blocking" as a fashion, even when it doesn't make you look like a Frank Lloyd Wright (or Vasa) stained glass (in the bad way), introduces so many opportunities for someone to make an utter hash of their wardrobe. I'm talking Cecil Gershwin Palmer fanon bizarre. Purple and I got to talking about the possibilities inherent in cultivating a look which was deliberately that awful, so that someone looking at their wardrobe might go "YOU HAVE ALL KINDS OF THINGS WHICH GO TOGETHER WHY DON'T YOU EVER WEAR THEM AT THE SAME TIME!!" because that sort of thing amuses us. (This apropos of my wardrobe, in which you could find things which go together poorly, but you'd have to try on purpose.) (Though the off-light-blue cotton workplace fitness challenge shirt with the neck cut out which fits too tight in the tits over the really elegant black and silver lace skirt would probably do it, especially if I threw in a bright pink boa and the purple glitter clogs.)
There's a certain amount of geek-culture cred to being able to correctly name which series of Star Trek the only color block shirt I own (unintentionally) goes with. Somebody had to google it. *smug look*
The Stage Manager has been telling me I'm evil. This may have to do with the doughnuts (no one wanted the last half, it seems like), the peeps, or the jellybeans. I'm not sure which. He snagged the last of the blue peeps, so I opened the purple peeps. (The pink peeps are next.)
I had occasion to mention to someone that the other uncle-manager was kind of an intense guy, and had more than once made me feel really stupid from the questions he was asking me which I ought to have been able to answer, and my complete inability to say anything while so very suddenly on the spot that made any sense. One either gets used to that (or pushes back, which is probably a better strategy), or one does not. But this is a thing to be aware of when having dealings with him.
It was still light out when I started meeping and wobbling. I'm not used to that happening except on 2nd Thursdays.
It occurred to me in the shower that my current love/romance/partner/Very Important People type situation could be summed up with a simple diagram. ( Read more... )
