Quo Vado?

Ah, my latest addition to the list of things I cannot live without - yeast rolls. I’ll refrain from telling how many times I’ve stopped at this one place for dinner just so I can have yeast rolls (and bring some home). The prime rib is pretty good, though I only recently started looking for non-sandwich items on the menu so I may not be much of a critic. So, I think I know know where I’m going to go for dinner.

Last weekend's shut down day has at least one lingering echo in the flat. The power strip connected to the DVD/VHS player and the television remains untouched. Last weeks television call didn't arouse enough attention to merit flipping the power strip. I'm sure the power free zone won't last forever. Going without television for a week was one of the least emotionally/mentally painful aspects of the week.

As part of my keeping the troops^[1] happy I treated Kid to lunch this afternoon. I love driving, but hate driving other people, so we took his car. Opening the passenger door, I slipped in to the seat and came to a halt in a semi-reclined position. I thought the position odd. Then we started moving. As we turned on to the main thoroughfare I realized that because of the way I sat, if he had to stop quickly I'd end up driving my body feet first into the engine compartment rather than head first out the window. Given my head defines hard and my knees and ankles define tricky that's an exceptionally frightening thought.

For the ride back I managed to work the Coke-soaked electronics and brought the seat into a more comfortable^[2], less scary position.

Oh, and lunch turned out pretty well. Until the last french-fry of the day dribbled honey-mustard on the portable shelf God gave me.

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[1] Or, at, least the one guy at work I claim as mine.
[2] For short people anyway.

I keep my email folder at work split into two main categories: In Design and In Construction. As I filed things from the sent box away yesterday, the disparity between times spent in each representative box based on architect/client really became evident.

One of our clients works full steam ahead. Trying to stay in front of their train takes way too much effort. Their projects spend less than two months in the In Design folder and don’t really become active until they’ve moved to the In Construction folder. Another client, a go-getter that almost rivals the first, currently has a project In Design that’s lingered there for almost eighteen months. I spoke with one of the guys recently and apparently they’re having problems with the city, but they usually have these things wrapped up fairly quickly. The client who sucks the largest portion of my time has projects In Design for twelve months, a fairly typical amount of time.

I haven’t removed/archived folders in months. Every time I think something is ready to be filed a way and forgotten, the phone rings and there’s one more thing.

So, to the projects that just won’t die, I salute you. You make me crazy and the world loves you for it. True.

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As I get ready for bed tonight, I hope (and possibly pray) that tomorrow morning’s dreams aren’t as scary as the one that started this morning. I’ve had scary dreams before. As a kid the Hulk would chase me around the house. While on pain meds after my wisdom teeth were removed Mom drowned me in a pool by standing on my head and multi-color Slimers chased me around a half-built mall.

This morning, I had the closest thing to a naked in public dreams as I’d ever experienced. If we believe the television the public nakedness dream actually happens. While I still can’t verify the existence of that dream, I did find myself wrapped in a beach towel on a construction site facing down a half-dozen construction guys with demeanors ranging from annoyed to irate.

Yep, the fact that I woke up in the middle of that one didn’t bother me so much.

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I looked at a calender and figured out part of my problem. It’s interesting what happens when you start crossing days of the calender en mass.

I so want to photograph the pile of stuff collecting near the window on my work table. I use the trashiness of the pile as an indicator for how well life’s going for the week. To say the least, the pile’s a bit trashed. Littered with empty take-away cups, half-full Diet Pepsi cans, left-over condiments, a open bag of spring SweetTarts, and piles of faxes I’ll get to one day the top threatens to fall over with every nudge of the table.

This afternoon as I look the weeks collection I shake my head and wonder if I’ll get the egg cleared off tonight so at least one clutter magnet looks like I’m something close to sane.

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It's day three of my happy meds and I'm not happy. Heck, I'm not anything. I feel like there's a thick layer of compressed air around me keeping everything from coming in. I don't know how to describe it. It's more non-functional than the typical distance I keep from the world. I feel odd and tired, as if all I want to do is go to bed. I had all I could do last not to not fall into bed at 9:06 pm. The worst part is I can't tell if it's the meds or the pollen. I'm currently debating on the next move I know both Professional Head Shrinker and First Name DO said it'd take five to seven days to kick in, but I'm not sure I can handle another day like today. True.

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For the last long while I’ve been fighting with MPC about where stuff goes. I had nothing, and everything floated around the back seat. I had a box, and I couldn’t move my seat back. I had a soft container, and I couldn’t find anything. So, as a 72,000 mile bonus, I upgraded MPC’s front seat. It now houses a baseball cap, a spare pare of sandals, two large bottles of water, suntan lotion (Coppertone 8 - it’s about the only thing that doesn’t make me break out), tissues, black book, Atlanta map, two books, CDs, phone charger, and emergency peanuts. The only thing that didn’t really fit were the hard hats. I tossed those in the trunk.

So, what’s with the up tick in posting here at QV? as of late? Not only am I attempting to pull myself out of the muck (of my own making per Professional Head Shrinker) but Squarespace - the wonderful folks who host and provide the architecture for QV? - recently added the option to e-mail in posts. It works great for moments when I have just a couple of minutes to type something out real fast, but not enough time to mess with the whole logging in thing. Also cool are the different ways I can set up QV? without loosing content.

I’m going to enjoy the plethora of posting, and I apologize in the midst if it becomes to banal.

Now, what should I have for supper?

I’m sending sheets out today. Many many sheets of half-assed work. No, actually, the work isn’t bad it’s the effort made to coordinate the work that’s half-assed. I’ve said before, and I’m sure I’ll say again, to correctly design, draw and coordinate a complete and coordinated set of low-rise timber multi-family plans it takes two solid weeks of work. Not the three-and-a-half distracted pieces of effort that went in to sending out these drawings. The Architect is going to yell at me. He’s going to have great reason to. The Owner is going to want to kill me. He too will have good reason. Just as I’m typing this now, I realize that I forgot the brick columns and associated details. Great, something else that will add to the cost later.

My biggest problem at the moment isn’t that I’m sending out sub-standard work, it is that I don’t actually care anymore. It will get fixed, I’ll somewhere along the line find a way. Don’t ask me when, but sooner or later the contractor will call with is tough questions and I’ll have to answer. Oh, woe is me.

The town’s crying about the pollen levels (Monday’s count was in excess of 5,000 parts per something). Yes, it’s ridiculous. Yes, it turns everything a foul yellow-green. Yes, the back of my throat feels like someone took coarse-grained sandpaper too it. But think of all the pretties we get as the result of our spring suffering. As someone who year around cries every time she returns to the city after having been away for more than two days, living here has to do some kind of serial damage to our bodies, but I blame it more on the bad general air quality more than I do plants who cannot help themselves.

Pollen Art

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There’s a not so great thing about being a structural engineer, you have the ability to label the things choking/scraping away at your throat - in your sleep. I awoke in the middle of the night feeling that a 4” square steel tube column was being shoved down my throat. Not a very fun feeling. Being able to able to describe it so clearly only made it hurt more.

I filled my Cela-something prescription last night and have taken the first one. I can't say much on the effects (common wisdom 5-7 days to kick-in) but I do like that it's small enough I can swallow without putting a finger half-way down my throat. Always a bonus there. It's kinda odd to be on drugs. Other than the liquid caffeine I've avoided pills at many costs, but yesterday I committed to taking at least thirty days of something. I set up my phone with a daily reminder so that I wouldn't forget. I typically do OK for the first four or five days, but somewhere around day six I forget.

Oh, well, I'd best get back to pretending that I know what I'm doing.