I arrived at work to find unusually scant pickings in the way of parking spaces. I wound up wedging my car in next to a Jeep which was parked uncomfortably close to the line, who was in turn evading a shiny silver Lexus SUV (here I would say "of course", but my aunt drives a not-so-shiny silver one of those which is like at least 10 at this point) which was parked ... well, one of the tires was "on" the line, where by "on" I mean "also mostly over". So it certainly wasn't the Jeep's fault.
I hit lunch early because of the now-inevitable 1pm Thursday meeting. If it's not one part of the conference planning, it's another. On stepping outside, I heard a rushing noise, sort of like any one of the following:
* Niagara Falls at a distance of a quarter-mile or so
* A jet engine, slightly closer
* About a hundred distant and terrifyingly in-sync jackhammers
* A white noise generator, turned way up
It was a lovely day, though, so Purple's lunch table was out in the courtyard. It was such a nice day that Purple expressed the desire to sit on top of a mountain for a while. His not!boyfriend apparently gets tired of nature very quickly, and the concept "Is that all there is, just all these trees and this lake?" was floated, to much hilarity. So that was the main topic of conversation for a while.
Eventually someone mentioned the noise, and maybe walking down to see what was going on with it. Some people hadn't even noticed the noise (cue incredulity from the rest of the table).
The 1pm meeting was something to which I was able to contribute constructively. A note to all would-be presenters: I don't care if it's "just" five dozen pens, if you don't tell the logistics person about it, it's not going to happen. I am likewise vaguely unimpressed with the attempt to add a poster session without explicitly telling me what the plans are.
Following that was the team meeting, featuring some guy who canceled twice before being able to make it finally. The meeting was punctuated with 10 minutes of rapid-fire buzzing from my watch, in which the helldesk software dumped "an offensive load" of quadruplicate stale notifications into my inbox. I was Not Best Pleased.
I returned to find that radius had proposed a milkshake run. He and Purple converged on my cube, and we stomped up towards the milkshake dungeon.
Helldesk wasn't the only thing which was dumping: it turned out that the roaring sound was the local gas company venting some of their pipes, in either reaction to, or preparation for, something. We started out discussing that. And while I was a little caught up in my own bubble for it to register, Purple greeted someone he knew who passed us on the sidewalk.
One of the reasons I was caught up in my own bubble was that possibly while this was going on, I had caught sight of one of the security guards coming down the path that we were about to go up. Ordinarily this would be unexceptionable, except that this was the guy who I am actively avoiding. Since radius and Purple were already talking a mile a minute, and we'd scrunched ourselves into a somewhat more path-friendly configuration, they walked slightly ahead while I walked behind between them. I was aware that they were essentially in forward bodyguard position, and I looked Pointedly Elsewhere as the guy passed, although he was talking somewhat loudly on a headset.
This occasioned (also somewhat loud and probably audible to the guy as we passed) commentary from radius and Purple, about ( not super sensitive of mental health issues )
The sight of ravens on the upper cafeteria led radius to explain about the difference between North American crows and Australian crows: the Aussie crows are much, much ruder
. That naturally led into a discussion of Craig Ferguson's flag-mouthed profanity replacement.
The guys aren't used to the vagaries of the elevator in this building. It's a double-sided elevator, with one door leading inside and one leading outside. We typically enter the elevator from the outside and exit from the inside door in the basement. In order that the rear door button works, however, requires a badge swipe. Generally I operate the thing, since I'm used to it, but Purple was closer this time.
We queued up to get our various ice creams. I'd neglected to take my lactose pills before stomping out the door, which situation I usually address by getting the lactose-free sorbets (lemon and strawberry are my favorites, though there are others I really enjoy too) but the chocolate and the vanilla looked very good. I comforted myself with the plan that I would eat them slowly and then take the pills when I got back to my desk.
Purple greeted someone. "So this is why you were in such a hurry!" he said, or words to that effect. Apparently there was some reason or other, but one of the things was that he was going in search of those little oatmeal cookies that are said to be in the break rooms, but in practice nearly never are (except in the Building of Conference Rooms) (except when they've been overrun with conferences). Stymied in his pursuit of cookies, he came for ice cream instead. Purple was amused.
We went outside to sit for a bit. There is asbestos in these here buildings. California law is at pains to let us know about it, and all of the main entrances have this very long URL on the windows, which presumably people are supposed to type in by hand. We comment on it basically every other time we see it. This time we got mired in server response codes. Then we walked back.
I popped in to see Madam Standards, and we wound up going over some of the party details together. She did a lot last year with the Commandant; this year she's heading up the party committee. She knows basically what she's doing, but appreciates cross-checking, especially when I tease out aspects of her ideas which she hadn't really considered. This one: a simple socializing hack using candy dishes.
Mr. Zune had shared the information about the llamas, and soon the dress also hit [off-topic].
My battle re: helldesk was interrupted by Researcher Carmageddon with actual research-related tasks for me. Hooray! So I did that, and then it was time to go home.
Purple walked me out as per usual. Since I've been a bit less steady on my feet these days than is quite normal for me (the extra steps may be getting to my knees) he has taken to walking with me to my car when I'm parked further out, just in case I need steadying (and because when we chat, that means I can lean on Vash). "Where are you?" he asked, when a quick peer around the parking lot did not yield the correct little white car. I was in the same column, just way down near the end, behind the van blocking our view. By this time, the Jeep was long gone, but the silver Lexus SUV was still there, still
over the line.
Purple was merrily talking smack about the parking job when the vehicle beeped. He peered around the thing to see someone approaching. "Oh hey," he said, to someone he obviously knew. Awkward! "He was the guy who passed us on the way up for milkshakes," he explained to me after the guy whizzed out of the parking lot. (It was the hour of departures, as a little white car across the way left within the same 30 seconds, and the van which had been blocking line of sight from Purple's car left within a few minutes also.) I shared my blueberries (I'd guessed wrong; I thought he didn't like blueberries, but it turns out it's pomegranates that he's not pleased with; generally he is in favor of fresh fruit) and we talked about surreal video game plots.
After not too long we headed off.
Still no update on the launderizer situation. I keep expecting to come home to find some sort of missive, but it has not transpired. On the up side, this is motivation to not let my housekeeping slip much during the week.
I was tired enough to go to bed without a formal writeup, though I had contemplated the idea of attempting to explain my day from my phone in bed. It turned out my tiredness had other ideas.