Computerless for the weekend
Monday, November 13, 2006
Wow. I can't believe I (and the DH) survived. As in most cases, some new software needed to be installed into our computer, which should only take a half-hour or so.
Riiight.
So when the DH announced the arrival of new software, I tried to get everything I wanted to get done on the computer late Friday night. The rest of the weekend I finally faced the piles of stuff that have taken up residence while I wasn't looking.
It was amazing! I now have a couch in the living room, a desk in the spare bedroom and, get this, a kitchen table! Bonus! Other finds include over $23 in non-expired coupons and this poem that I wrote back in 1991:
Job from Hell
The din of traffic reports causes unwanted consciousness
A mad scramble down the stairs
Then tea
Stretch to reach the pale green Bic
For five minutes of nicotine
Fast dash back up the stairs
Dried, dressed, ready to go
Don't forget the lunch prepared the night before
Quicken the pace as the bus approaches
The journey begins
A bus, subway and bus again
Sprinkled with flirtatious glances
Limbs entwined, chests heaving with each breath
Fold the corner of the page to mark my place
Alone, surrounded by cool grey walls
Waiting for a drop of colour to make it all better
Non-smoking regulations keep me outside
Rain makes me angry
Eight hours of solitude, interrupted by the odd phone call
Or even some work to do
Proofreading old mistakes, Happy Hoidays comes to mind
Phone calls to friends as I complain
Longing to be one of the many unemployed
In old files I find copies
Duplicates, triplicates in the hanging files and docket bags
The boss can never find it, and makes another copy
My boss? Relatively ethical seems appropriate
Family on the payroll, outrageous rates being charged
And he thought he offered me the world with an extra grand a year
Cold lunches at my desk with no microwave in sight
Just the thought of Cup-a-Soup leaves me weak
I could always eat outside
Rain makes me angry
Procrastination becomes my best friend
Unfold the corner and get swept away
By tall dark men with chiseled features - Steele, Drake or Seth
Fingers blacken as I scan the want ads
Thoughts of freelancing come to mind
With no security, no guarantees
I lose courage and stay at my lonely desk
Words by Dale Carnegie have no effect
I read, re-read, the read again
Stranded in the land of extra bus fares and rush-hour service
Hoping I don't have a midday appointment
Resumes are faxed and mailed
Letters of recommendation litter my desk
People call looking for work and I bite my tongue
I wouldn't wish this job on them
Open the blinds for a weather report
Rain makes me angry
Okay, I need to go find a few beatniks and have a jam session.
Riiight.
So when the DH announced the arrival of new software, I tried to get everything I wanted to get done on the computer late Friday night. The rest of the weekend I finally faced the piles of stuff that have taken up residence while I wasn't looking.
It was amazing! I now have a couch in the living room, a desk in the spare bedroom and, get this, a kitchen table! Bonus! Other finds include over $23 in non-expired coupons and this poem that I wrote back in 1991:
Job from Hell
The din of traffic reports causes unwanted consciousness
A mad scramble down the stairs
Then tea
Stretch to reach the pale green Bic
For five minutes of nicotine
Fast dash back up the stairs
Dried, dressed, ready to go
Don't forget the lunch prepared the night before
Quicken the pace as the bus approaches
The journey begins
A bus, subway and bus again
Sprinkled with flirtatious glances
Limbs entwined, chests heaving with each breath
Fold the corner of the page to mark my place
Alone, surrounded by cool grey walls
Waiting for a drop of colour to make it all better
Non-smoking regulations keep me outside
Rain makes me angry
Eight hours of solitude, interrupted by the odd phone call
Or even some work to do
Proofreading old mistakes, Happy Hoidays comes to mind
Phone calls to friends as I complain
Longing to be one of the many unemployed
In old files I find copies
Duplicates, triplicates in the hanging files and docket bags
The boss can never find it, and makes another copy
My boss? Relatively ethical seems appropriate
Family on the payroll, outrageous rates being charged
And he thought he offered me the world with an extra grand a year
Cold lunches at my desk with no microwave in sight
Just the thought of Cup-a-Soup leaves me weak
I could always eat outside
Rain makes me angry
Procrastination becomes my best friend
Unfold the corner and get swept away
By tall dark men with chiseled features - Steele, Drake or Seth
Fingers blacken as I scan the want ads
Thoughts of freelancing come to mind
With no security, no guarantees
I lose courage and stay at my lonely desk
Words by Dale Carnegie have no effect
I read, re-read, the read again
Stranded in the land of extra bus fares and rush-hour service
Hoping I don't have a midday appointment
Resumes are faxed and mailed
Letters of recommendation litter my desk
People call looking for work and I bite my tongue
I wouldn't wish this job on them
Open the blinds for a weather report
Rain makes me angry
Okay, I need to go find a few beatniks and have a jam session.
posted by Bonnie Staring at 10:09 AM
2 Comments:
That poem is fantabulous. Especially: "Thoughts of freelancing come to mind
With no security, no guarantees
I lose courage and stay at my lonely desk" - That was what was running through my head as I was blog reading ;-) I hate being a slave to health insurance.
Thanks guys - I've ordered berets for all of us! :::snaps fingers rapidly and tries to appear aloof at the same time:::
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