Temporarily bleak mood, as the project that wouldn't die finally staggered off to a pseudo-end, a 'wrap-up' meeting plus pre and post meetings today for a little over 4 hours. Gah. The 'wrap-up' was once again a thinly-disguised pitch for follow-up work, by my socially autistic or deliberately hard-of-clue contract managers. The past 6 – 8 weeks of this project have been the business equivalent of “keep asking until she either stops saying maybe and says yes, or is too drunk to talk”. I am So. Frickin. Tired. Of This. And I'll believe it's over when the phone doesn't ring for a week or three.
Project C was successfully handed off last week, with only a quick review of the final spec required at the end of this week, all phone/email stuff. They'd like me to 'stay involved', and we'll see how that works…and if they respond to invoicing with reasonable promptness.
Which leaves only Project B, which is plenty to occupy my attention and has the advantage of being nearby, unlike A and C.
And finishing our move to the new place. And starting my garden. And doing our medical reimbursement forms before the April 1 deadline. And the lab work for my physical. And. And. And.
Given the impracticality (and inadvisibility) of time travel to the next Black Sheets party, shapechanging into my totem of choice and ripping apart bunny rabbits in the western foothills, or growing to 20 meters tall and calling down thunderbolts on suck-ass drivers on 280, I think I'll engage in some Directed Retail Therapy instead.
OSH is good. I gotta coupon for one of those long curly hoses, and they come in purple and in electric blue, both of which fail to suck. If we'd unpacked more of the storage unit this past weekend, I might have found my wooden swords, and gone out back onto the patio to cut hell out of cardboard boxes, a nice strength/control exercise with a blunt wooden sword and a slidy cardboard box. But no. Next time. Next project. Whatever.
Relentless Inquiry 
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