A day of petty annoyances, which are uniquely aggravating. You can't get too upset about anything. You get cumulatively annoyed. It started when the guy who's repairing the outdoor light fixture showed up at the same time who's replacing the shed door, and I was doing a podcast, and of course the dog went mad.
If you're wondering why I can't replace the shed door, it's because it's a custom size, for some reason. You can't just swap in a new one. If you're wondering why I can't replace the light fixture, it's because the socket is broken, and electricity is involved, and I know better. Bottom line on that one, the whole thing has to be rebuilt at ruinous expense. So it's 8:27 and I am annoyed, but it could be worse.
At work they are working on a hallway that connects two wings of the office. They have to build a space to access some elevator controls. Oh - reminds me. Sure someone mentioned this in the comments, but: elevator modernization surely means energy-wise units that don't run all day but start up when someone approaches. That's my guess. I've seen them elsewhere. Anyway, the workers today sealed off the pass-through and built a door, which means we can't cut through the space anymore. Highly inconvenient. Lots of drilling sounds and clanking and music. I begrudge them none of that but it was all 70s / 80s rock, of all things. These guys are a third my age. It's like the eternal soundtrack of guys who make and fix things.
When I got home my computer had finished installing the new OS, and the mouse pointer was jerky. This means it was set at the wrong refresh rate. Should be 60, not 30. Turns out 60 is no longer an option, because Dell was apparently completely caught by surprise by this annual update and couldn't be arsed to update their drivers. I called technical support and was informed indeed that they had not updated the drivers.
Since my Mafia nickname is Jimmy Two-Screens, I swapped the left monitor for the right, but it's incapable of higher resolutions. Which is annoying.
Eh, let's watch some TV. Call up a streaming service in the browser. Black screen. Why? Who knows! Some DCMA issue. Maybe an update thing! Okay, go to Amazon, watch some football. Commercial. For Little Caesars. For Little Caesars' new product.
This looks like a Milton Bradley game, except in bread form.
When I can't even get interested in pizza innovations, you know I'm in a pesky mood.
Two-hundred and fifty-six grams of carbs, if you're interested.
And now, the weekly dream, illustrated by AI with minimal prompts.
Complex work dream with many venues. I was at a convention, and had been there before; it was an event I done so many times I knew people who worked the booths, and was somewhat tired of doing this all again. At some point I was in a parking lot backing up in deep snow, an echo of trying to making a complex backup after football at Steve’s earlier that night.
Then a meal in a restaurant; then I left, and couldn’t find my car. Then I remembered that I was driving an old car, the Buick Skylark. (At this point the parking lot was much like the parking for 718 4th street, possibly because Steve and I had been talking about that apartment building during the aforementioned football game.
I realized it had been towed. I tried to take a picture of the sign (which said “Light Towing provided by [Company name]”) but I didn’t want to overwrite a glamour shot of my wife on the phone, even though I knew you can’t overwrite, only erase. Well, I certainly didn’t want to erase it, either; it was a great photo. Black and white. Long gown slid to the waist, outdoor setting. I finally took a picture and went back inside.
There was a comedy troupe, just leaving, and I asked them if they could take a movie of my attempt to kick a balloon over the building. One of them immediately began putting on comic airs and exaggerated accents, and I gave it all back and then some, so they were impressed. But in the end only one stayed to watch, and it was no more than me kicking a balloon over a divider in the back dining room of the restaurant.
Nevertheless, I heard a crash; the balloon had somehow broken the mirrored glass of a jewelry display. The owner, an Asian woman, looked up at me with a flat look that was probably contempt, but lacked fire.
When I went back outside the Buick was there, and I wondered if I hadn’t seen it because I had forgotten what it looked like.
The Firehouse complex still has one more floor to go, at least.
At the start of the month I showed you this old spandrel, revealed by renovation:
Bleepity-bleeping fargin' vandals:
All gone. Grr.
Another three-panel job.
After the arrest and the cuffing, ze taunting! Solution is here.
This year's old newspaper feature: a social no-no single-panel illustration. Can you figure out what's wrong?
The answer will be provided on Monday. I think we all know where this one is going.
That will do! Thank you for your visits, and I'll see you on Monday.