Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

I don't think apt-get/aptitude/dselect/pkg/et al like me very much. Main workstation in uncertain & nervous-making state. Sleepy. Behind on reading LJ/mail/news; likely to get farther behind; similarly WRT writing. After sorting computer out, I've got major woodshedding to do before Saturday evening. And laundry. Sunday is supposed to be home-work (as in, replacing stair railing that dumped me on my ass last weekend). So if I'm quiet/absent, that's all why. If I find time to write anyhow, beyond blurb 'bout big bash I'm bowin' & blowin' for (psaltery, recorder), assume I'm procrastinating. This half-hour: sssllleeeeeepppyyy.

Okay, not asleep yet.

Sounded exactly like a car crash, though less impressive than the last one. Couldn't see anything from window, so either I heard wrong ot 'twas around the corner. Then lots of sirens (more sirens every five or six minutes as vehichles of various types from various departments zoom up Lombard and turn the wrong way on Fulton, to where I'd guessed the boomTHUDcrunch had come from). So either it's a much bigger crash than it sounded like, or a police cruiser was involved which made it a much bigger deal ... Not quite curious enough to get dressed and go peer around the corner after already having taken my sleepymeds, but darned close. Tow truck sits across from my house with a still-shiny (unbent-looking) vehicle hooked up behind it, amber lights flashing; not sure whether it has anything to do with the police/fire/rescue activity around the corner.

So yah, not asleep yet.

The good news is I just sav I may have gotten the Debian auto-upgrader thingummie (or is apt-get a thingamajig? I get my thingummies and thingamajigs mixed up, though I finally did learn to keep my nooks straight from my crannies. Pretty sure it's not a thingamabob though, nor, I think, a frobnitz) to get past it's "help me, I'm stuck repeating a cryptic error message from a package you told me not to touch that makes no sense in the first place" problem. Now I'm waiting for it to Give Me Back My Damned Kernel.

[Check's to-do list. Compares to scheduler.] Oh! Right! Sleep! Then laundry.

Definitely been one of those days spent wishing for a drug in between Ultram and codeine in strength. (No, whom am I kidding? I want something as strong as codeine/Percoset/Vicodin, just not addictive, not something one builds up a tolerance for, not subject to recreational abuse, and thus not so heavily watched by the government (and still not deadly to the liver, kidneys, or stomach lining). I want something that takes the pain away as well as narcotics, but does nothing else; just takes the pain away. One o' y'all science types who has a lab and funding for lots of thingamajigs and whatsits and machines that go 'ping!', invent me a new drug for Christmas, ok?

Basically a day when I spent most of the time hurting too badly to get anything accomplished w/o codeine, but not in enough pain to warrant the codeine just for the pain itself as oppposed to the getting-things-done aspect ... and feeling stubborn because I'm unhappy about how often I've needed co take codeine lately, so I just wrote the day off as an "I'm not gonna get much done today and see how I feel on Ultram" day, and hope that I'll have gotten enough rest today that I can actually be productive tomorrow on nothing more than Ultram & ibuprofen.

Not sure how coherent that pragraph was. Sleeepy.

"Know, gentle reader, and I speak here as an experienced and accomplished chronicler in my own right (as the gentle reader has already had occasion to judge, from his perusal of these preceding pages of our tale), that of all the sins and foibles which afflict the writer--be that writer a scribe or a scribbler, a diarist or a dramatist, a narrator or a notary--there is none so foul, so odious, so disreputable, so arrant, so untoward, so deplorable, so infamous and so peccant as verbosity, yes, I say again, verbosity, that malignant cancer of the narrator's craft, which, under its many names--whether those be the names preferred by the educated gentility: wordiness, long-windedness, prolixity, superfluity or garrulity; or yet those more exact and fine-focused terms which are the natural optation of the scholar, ( the rest of the paragraph )