April 5, 2002

• Alone.

  
  

  Yup.

  
  

  My child has gone to daycare and I am staying home. Hub took her and everything.

  
  

  Wow, I thought, I'll:

  
  

  
  
  • Jump on the beds.
  
  
  • Eat corn chips and watch Linda Evans movies at midday.
  
  
  • Play Nine Inch Nails really loud.
  
  
  • Dance to The Temptations without putting my kid into hysterics.
  
  
  • Surf all day on the Net. Maybe go rant a bit.
  
  
  • Go see a slushy movie with Hugh Jackman. Correction: go see this slushy movie and mentally X out Meg Ryan's face.

  
  

  But was not to be.

  
  

  Did you expect anything different?

  
  

  A client has decided his web site must go up by Monday to ensure that the myriads of prospective buyers who will see his new ad won't be put off by his lame ass website.

  
  

  He changed his mind about the design which he previously thought was okay at 3pm today. He decided that copy for web sites should be as long and as verbose as possible - say small Romance novel length. And go on and on and on about such riveting details as 'integrated end to end claims processing' and 'strategic 3rd party alliances'. GACK.

  
  

  So guess who's been churning out this kind of dreck all day?

  
  

  Well. Okay, I took a break at 8am.

  
  

  I was up at 5am to hit our smoke detector repeatedly with my shoe since it kept squawking. There was no smoke, it just does that sometimes until I beat it. And it feels good to hit something so hard, so early.

  
  

  So yeah, my break at 8am consisted of sitting in the early morning Sydney sun with a strong cup o' Joe and Lenny Kravitz. Helped to drown out the sounds of Abba playing next door. (what's with the Abba revival anyway? They were crap then and they are crap now, only now they have wrinkles and pot bellies. Go back to Sweden and eat some herring).

  
  

  I surfed a little - I went here and here and here.

  
  

  And then did some maintenance on my own bulletin board before the hordes descended. The community I shepherd through motherhood is a weird and wondrous bunch of women, let me tell ya. If there is an opinion to be voiced - they ain't shy. And they aren't askeered to email me and tell me off either. My inbox had 182 messages today. Only spat out my coffee twice at truly hilarious posts. Where were they all when I was stumbling around blind and crazed in the first few months after my child's birth? Makes me feel good that other mamas don't have to do those kind of yards. At least not alone.

  
  

  Okay - back to work. Yadda yadda. Boring, boring. How do people work from home on boring stuff? How can anyone sit in front of a computer rabbiting on about 'experience in all aspects of innovative technology that enables the provision of state of the art system solutions that deliver tangible business benefits.' Without wanting to drink absinthe? How can anyone be expected to read this with any kind of interest at all? Especially straight? Except sadly, I know there are folks that do. I have met them in my previous life as a Knowledge Management consultant. If male: they wear beige sweaters, wide wale corduroy pants with brown suede shoes and have comb overs or if the female of the species - they wear elasticised waist skirts in cheerful flowered patterns partnered with a pastel synthetic blouse with a brooch on one shoulder. You just know they have a pair of Vulcan ears in their closet.

  
  

  So yeah. Must write this shit.

  
  

  Stop for lunch. Notice evidence of rodent in kitchen. I hate that little fucker. He's been defying my humane trap for two weeks now - stealing the bait, depositing little dry turds on my kitchen counter so I have to get out the anti-bacterial arsenal if I want a drink of water and scampering across the floor at 4am when I want a glass of milk. He made me shriek last night. I craftily bait the slammin'jammin' trap with some napalm drenched chocolate Easter egg and pray to the vermin gods to show some justice. I put up with the Palmetto bugs and the Funnel Webs okay? I cannot stand rodents of any description, and especially not when they tap dance across my counters with top hats and canes.

  
  

  Back to computer. Check email. Idly message someone. Swear at client who seems to think we can give him a $20000 web site for $1.95 and a handshake. Grind teeth and write more sentences like: "Our product streamlines every aspect of your business processes whilst eliminating organizational and geographical boundaries." (I mean who uses 'whilst' in a conversation?)

  
  

  So here I sit. It's 5:30pm. The day is gone.

  
  

  I have written 4 pages of the most god awful boring drivel known to humanity, rejigged a web site, had handholding sessions with clients and artistes and there is a very very flat mouse in the kitchen. Good things come in (flattened) packages.

  • 3:07 am
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