Today was a net suckage day. The whole subnet was just completely hosed, so there was no way in or out. It completely wrecked my concentration as nearly everything that we do with the infrastructure tools has something to do with the intranet and I also had absolutely no clue what was happening with the market, either. Looks like we made back about half what was lost Friday. We'll see if that trend continues or if it's just the rest of the last month or two in repeat, i.e. everything steadily sliding down further. I have a feeling things are at healthy levels, now, whereas even a week ago I'd have said things weren't that particularly well grounded in reality.
Well, we'll see.
I had a gawdawful time getting anywhere. Plus the fact that I was sick meant I had about the brain capacity of a pea. A well cooked, smooshed British pea, even. I kept banging against the wall of the net, even wrote Geoff a bunch of email that I never knew if he got them because he never answered, and then punched a way through with my Unix box, which might well be on a different subnet, but then that got hosed as well. At least I talked with him a little bit, found out that he got the emails and that there was mutual missing. Missing interaction, missing written thoughts. Just circumstances, what with how busy we both are, we're just not meeting up and so busy that when we do it's hard to pay attention. Nice that today, for a short while, I could just concentrate for a bit on him.
Little that I could concentrate on much else. John and I went to Good Times for lunch, away from everything and we ate out in the sunshine, it's nearly in the 80's today. Mild breeze to cut the heat, but after all the snow on Saturday it felt just absurd. Maybe it's why I have my cold. Talk about abrupt changes in the weather.
Spent the afternoon hammering away at what I could. Got on for just a little while before everything hung. Ugh.
So I grumbled and fretted about that. Junkie that I am, I guess. So I actually did some work, but got frustrated, eventually, by that as well as it depended on some net access to get things to work. That sucked badly. So I just went to my boss and told him that I'd be late on it. He'd said that a few days didn't matter, but I hate being late. I mostly feel like just sitting somewhere and crying and it makes no sense at all because all the hard things are done. I worked through Fezzik's stuff and that seems to be doing okay. The stock market took a hard hit at the very, very first but is rebounding nicely and I'm just dizzy from everything, still, I guess.
Or maybe I feel like it's finally safe and I can just collapse. Or maybe it really was just an awfully frustrating sort of day.
Still sick, still not all better, still don't know how Fezzik will do on the treatment long-term and likely never really will, still have no idea what the hell the Market is going to do, too.
Went home grumbling and sad and faint from hunger and John made me a good dinner of hot dogs in buns, we even stopped at the Safeway because I wanted real hot dog buns and John had fun making jokes about my buns all the way home that made me laugh, too. The kids were the only ones not completely wiped in my set of personalities and they wanted food and fun. So we did that. Food and talking and laughing and jokes and lots and lots of doggy hugs as Fezzik was bouncy and happy and funny and he got his food to eat, too. That was cool. His lymph nodes have gone way down and he's all fuzzy where they shaved him. Given that he'd run so much on Sunday, he was in really good shape today. Not stiff or anything.
The food really helped my mood tremendously.
And after food, we watched hockey some and I had three books I had to read. The first was Red Dragon by Tom Harris, the other two were both Sean Stewart books Mockingbird and Galveston, since I'd bought it for Geoff, I should probably read it too. I started Red Dragon, and found that I really wasn't in the mood for it. It's far, far scarier than The Silence of the Lambs and has an even deeper look into that part of the human psych. I wanted to touch that side of me again, but not that deep that quickly, with the kids still savoring their hot dog. So I turned to Mockingbird and read and read and read and absorbed the Southern voice and drawl and swing of that book and John pulled me out between chapters at 11 p.m. telling me I really needed to go to bed.
I went to bed. Cried on John for a while, just from all that pain and all the stupidity and just feeling so weak and gave him the chance, now that I figured out that I was stupid yesterday. And so he felt good about holding me and I felt good at being able to just do it and it was nice to be held.
Then I went to sleep and dreamed of a shapeshifter's battle with the girl in the book and all her little gods. My people of the Flight, the personalities that have shaped who I now am, all came and faced them off, one by one and they were an even match in the dream. Though hubris it might be to admit when I'm awake, each was a match for the little gods that rode. And maybe we were doing it together, for a need, a reason, or something. That was all muddled, but I very, very clearly remember saying, fiercely, "These, though, are me. They don't kill me in order to come into being anymore, to walk the earth, they are me, now."
It seemed very important. It still is.
Then I was just me, in a later dream, sliding down a 40 foot bank as I was running away from a really nasty hunt that was also remote enough that with the trick I could be free. I slid right into a rich man's compound that was filled with cheetah and lions and bear and other wild animals. I even had to go into the waters of a river and watched some of the big cats not choose to follow me into the wet. There was one big yellow Lab who found me on the grounds and being a big, happy dog he instantly befriended me and followed me around and the other animals backed off from him and the two of us wandered through the African-recreation of the rich man's park all the way into the guy's garage, which had three Land Rovers in it. I was admiring them when I heard foot steps and I just crouched and hid in nearly plain sight, just trusting stillness in the cool dark of the garage.
The big yellow Lab bounded right up to the guy. Of course, he was his dog, and the guy paid the happy dog much attention and he looked once around the garage, got the tool he wanted and then said, over his shoulder, "You may join us for tea if you like." and walked out.
British chap, the very model of a romance hero, except set in modern times. He and his buddy laughed at me and my muddy self and the little I tried to talk Land Rovers with them, but he gave me a bedroom and bath where I could shower and change unbothered and I joined them, and the dog, for tea and they were brusque and civil, but still male superior and I was just glad enough to be safe for the moment to really fight it too hard. I knew that I'd probably impress them more if I drove for them than if I said anything, so I just ate my sandwiches and biscuits and sipped my tea and listened as they talked about their trucks, the park and their fiances.
I woke up then, when Fezzik came to the door at 6:30 a.m. to whimper at me until he could pad, quickly, out the door. He was moving really well and being pretty active. Neat.