An endlessly frustrating day, so far. I need to finish my current mini-project by tomorrow, but I'm not getting very far. Everyone is restless, so there is much wandering in & out of my cube, much conversation, many people waving their hands. At least Patrick isn't eating oranges in the bathroom again.

My body is feeling much better than it did Tuesday, but continues to cut out at odd moments, leaving me feeling -- stalled, I guess. Yesterday was particularly bad for that; I woke up energetic, but by the time I got back from Millbrae I was absolutely exhausted, and spent the rest of the day in a sort of blue-grey haze.

I've read more Pratchett! Over the weekend I finished Guards, Guards!, and then last night I finished both Moving Pictures and Reaper Man. The former was amusing but not particularly memorable; the latter was a very odd combination of high-strung humor (shopping carts, wizards), and intense soul-searching (Bill Door). The Bill Door parts were very Chryse (my Mage character), and I am keeping the book for a few days so as to send Al quotes from it.

So. I continue impressed.

Last night was gaming (we seem to be swapping back to Wednesdays, after a long soujourn on Thursdays caused by my class schedule last fall), but instead of actually playing I went to dessert with Susan, Jim, and Harold. The conversation was very, very interesting, although it seems to defy summary. We talked about parenthood (not surprising; Susan is the mother of a 2.5-yr-old) and languages (namely languages we invented in high school), and the importance of dessert, and people we know in other countries, and a few dozen other things. I had a really lovely time, aside from a minor sulk that the Peninsula Creamery doesn't currently have maple-nut ice cream.

The day seems to be over. It's almost 6pm, and I am definitely ready to go home. The afternoon was less frustrating than the morning, but I still didn't accomplish nearly as much as I would have liked. Around 4 or so our cube (a fairly small area shared by myself, Rachel, and Omi) was visited by Vivek (developer hired a week after me, making me not actually the newest developer), and things quickly devolved into conversation. What would we do with the sort of money someone like Michael Jordan makes? (Eighteen million a year, after taxes, by our estimate.) It's just too much to comprehend; sure, you buy yourself a house, and houses for all your friends, and all the toys you want, but eventually you just run out of things you want to do with that much money. Or so we theorised; anyone who wants to give me eighteen million so I can find out for myself is welcome to do so.

Other suggestions included buying small countries, buying/building islands, and (the winner, inasmuch as everyone seemed to pseudo-agree) funding space exploration/research/colonisation. That last actually seems like a lovely idea to me; we're never going to get anywhere until space gets out of government hands and into private ones.

After a while Vivek wandered off again, and we all sort of went back to work. Now Rachel is gone home, and Omi has vanished, and I'm about to leave. To my amazement I'm not stressed -- no physical tension beyond the usual, no about-to-cry frustration level. I blame it on amiable co-workers.

Tomorrow I go to Oklahoma for about forty hours to see my mom. Eep. I really should finish these search modifications before I go. But not tonight.