Tired of going down
Tired of myself
Tired of this town
Any day that starts at 2 AM is bad. Waiting for the alarm at 4 just makes it worse. Waking up at 4:25 because you finally fell asleep and the alarm didn't go off puts a mark on the day that says you should probably call in sick.
Not being one to heed such clear warnings, I ran like crazy to get to the BART to meet Jerry to take our road trip to Silicon Valley Lab. Now, despite the name, SVL was built way south of San Jose, in a place where there was so much nothing that they could export it to places with too much stuff. Tule fog and cow flop make an aroma that is just assault with intent to throttle.
I spent a week communicating (I thought) to SVL staff that I was going to need their help with two projects today.
As of 1:30, no one had shown up, or responded to emails or pings or carrier pigeons or evil druidical spells, so we said F it and left. 130 miles of travel, eight hours of work, and no more to show for it than would plug a gnat's arse.
In an attempt to break the string, Kate and I went to Back Forty BBQ for supper. We sat down, I started to polish my glasses, and the right lens popped out onto the table.
Fortunately, I don't need to see to eat BBQ. Take that, you Monday-in-disguise.
Tomorrow can and must and will be better.