I'm going to shoot someone.

Today, that would be Verizon. After having to reconfigure everything so that my damned modem would, you know, actually be able to send out emails, IMs, etc. the service is still crawling along. Thanks for naught, twerps.

I think I'll be switching back to Earthlink in November/December.

P.S. I have a horrible foreboding of doom that this could morph into the horror tale that Alan Davies lived through with Virgin Media. *gets out stakes and garlic, and voodoo dolls... just in case.*

There has to be something in the high school. The beastie is home again with pink-eye and a fever. The beastiette is coughing, and I've resigned myself to the idea that my cough might be getting company. Stocked up on herbals and tea, soup making supplies, and plenty of juices and teas. We'll be snug and warm this long weekend.

Supper is on the go... pot roast... quick, yummy, and easy, so I might just go take a warm bath and relax for 1/2 hour so I can actually stay awake and have the energy to chat tonight.

Still waiting on word from the repair places on the other computers. An exercise in patience, yes, but one that is now getting old.

The first column. "Neque porro quisquam est qui dolorem ipsum quia dolor sit amet, consectetur, adipisci velit..."

This is the second. "There is no one who loves pain itself, who seeks after it and wants to have it, simply because it is pain..."

Layout testing, you see.

I'm getting organised. Slowly but surely. A bit like my house.

ETA: Header image. I can live with this as the idea I have for the At the Headwaters of Eden* posts are parallel dreams/remembrances. I'm sure it would look much better on paper, but that will come in the fullness of time.

*Yes, it is called Between Darkness and Dawn at Pan, but that is for brevity's sake.

LJ takes stupid to a whole new level with this one:

Major Notes: Your Journal - Your Money
Your Journal - Your Money debuts.

What part of no ads do they think this caters to? One, I wouldn't put Google ads on my journal, and two, I'd probably stop visiting journals that do have them. I'm there to read and respond with my friends, not make them feel pressured to buy a paid account to make back pennies on their dollars.

I'd call them morons, but by now, that would just be insulting other morons.

I do apologise for the lack of a witty subject line; it just strikes me that a simple descriptive is best at the moment.

This is day two of my being on paid administrative leave before my job no longer officially exists on 7 August, 2009. I finished reading Season of the Witch yesterday at the pool, and I must get more works by Ms Mostert as soon as I can order them from the library.

Today was given over to going through the two boxes of personal effects accumulated over the decade at my position with the museum, and tidying up my personal creative workspace. I am not finished by a good mile, but Fort du Papier has been reduced to a small redoubt of neatly organised files in a single stack. A rosewood box is now the repository of the ink and pens, as well as the small galaxy of post-it notes I own.

Tomorrow I will spend another two hours on the deacon's bench which is an impressive mix of source books, jerseys, and a kitten nest. Then again, she was also content to nest in the box of things to be disposed of, so I'm not too upset by clearing out this space tomorrow.

The next task is to see where the creative world stands for Gwynne, Izzy, Roby, and the cast of the original fictions.

That's a paraphrase of something one of my colleagues told me today. A door has closed, but I'm in the hallway of opportunity.

My position at HSMC was made redundant today as the scythe of budget cutting doom [TM] once more swept through the museum. I do, however, get thirty days of administrative leave, which I am taking as the museum world equivalent of a severance package.

I'm not going to say that this is alright, because it sucks. It was a crappy job at times, but dammit, it was my crappy job. I, however, will be all right. The hard part was leaving the men who mentored me in my chosen career as an archaeologist, the colleagues that I went to college with and worked with for the past 20 odd years, and the people that I have come to know whilst working at HSMC. Yes, I shall miss the people far more than the pay cheque.

So, any good 'get-a-better-job-soon' vibes; mojo; voodoo; hoodoo; white/grey/black/red/green magick [Octarine! the colour of magick] and/or prayer will be greatly appreciated.