That's Wrong!

I've finished up Jane's computer. Now to run it upstairs, do some last minute configuring, then go downstairs and eat frozen yogurt while waiting for G for the ride home.

That's right, I'm ducking out of work early, and YOU CAN'T STOP ME! hahahahaha!

The issue is resolved

one way or another, and I can feel it physically. My body relaxes, unknots, the headache I had all day long is fading. Bob Mould's crooning Brasila crossed with Trenton with its seesaw rhythm, and I have one hour to build the CEO's secretary's computer. Today they are called administrative assistants, PC and all that crap, but she is in her 50's, has a mind like a steel trap, and a perpetual smile on her face. Administrative assistant just doesn't suit her.

An hour from now, I'll be walking out the door, with Warhammer and South Park, not a few ciders and dancing in my future. Just keep walking out of the underworld, and whatever you do, don't. Turn. Your head.