Snow Day

Pete's Coffee just does it for me.

In other headline news, it's a snow day here in New England. Most schools are closed. I found this out online at wbztv.com through a single click. When I was a boy, I had a "clock radio" (think Austin powers describing the "laser"), which I would tune into on a potential snow day with the same alacrity I would apply to ripping open a present on Christmas morning. My school was always the last hold out, and alphabetically the furthest down the list. I remember the disappointment when mine was skipped over.

Yesterday I realized that my boss, though the nicest guy you could ever ask for, is so damn boring one on one that he makes himself yawn. I will call him Mr. Analogy. I'm building a software system. He is my manager, and asked me for a document that breaks down the tasks that need to get done in the process. I wrote my outline, pasted some pretty pictures, then showed it to him to validate as being on the right track. Somehow, he got to the point of drawing me a cell phone and, in painful detail, all the functions of that cell phone, and how I would go about documenting it. He lost track of what he was talking about, then took another look at what I had given him, and gave his blessing.

Handy Man has struck again. I sent a company wide email begging for help. Here it is, for your viewing pleasure:

Does anyone know the basics of home wiring?

I have what some call a situation at home. I've done the software equivalent of putting untested code into production, and consequently bringing down the national grid. Not quite that bad, but let's just say there are a few dark passages in my house right now.

I'm doing the man thing, by the way, so an electrician is out of the question. Besides, now it's personal.

Scott

The aforementioned manager read this before coming into work, and brought me a book and some kind of electrical reading gadget thingamabob that not even he understands how to use. I should really learn how to use it though, because testing a 220 wire with your tongue is no way to determine if it's hot.

My wife dressed me yesterday in brown corduroys and an orange sweater -- the kind of orange that would prevent, say, a hunter from mistaking you for anything natural. It got lots of comments. I was called a pumpkin on more than one occasion -- not terribly original. The Charlie Brown comment was better thought out. When I told my wife about the reception, she smiled, fixed my collar and told me I look very handsome. I can't shake the feeling that she is making damn sure no female of the species will find me attractive.

As I walking into my manager's office, he took one look at me at said, "Hey pumpkin!" I couldn't resist the opening. In my best Joey Tribiani I said, "How you doin' sugah tits?"