08.21.03 - 3:58 p.m.

oh my FUCK.

FIRST I lose a post because the fucking Dr. fucking Watson fuck-stick stupid-ass error message shuts down the windows without given you a chance to look at and grab whatever you were writing, then I cannot connect to the database.

Piss off, microsoft. Also, computer guy. Bastids.

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That was hours ago. Now it is late afternoon, another (oh, surprise) gray day outside my window, hot and humid, August weather. I suppose I should be grateful that we had relatively little in the way of real August weather this year, but after the summer I've had, I can't bring myself to feel like that. I would have gone home at lunch today - after helping my dad pick up and exchange cars and garages and things, of course - to lay around all day except I had something that had to be done. I'm still piddling around with the something that had to be done, and mostly I'm resentful that there was so much go-through-and-weed-out-crap to be done. I had organizing records. I don't understand how the records I organize as they come in get thoroughly deconstructed in the process. These were a particular bitch to organize.

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Hours later. Meet Roy Moore, our own little slice of the Taliban.

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More hours later, I'm finally giving up an going home. I started this at 3:58 p.m. It is now 6:57 p.m. I didn't spend much time writing here, but it's a good, brief escape from this really super-annoying case. Blargh.

P.S. - I don't like NPR's current crop of commentators. They're not that good. Shut up! Stop trying to be so f'ing cute. I only like that psychiatrist woman from the state hospital in Massachusetts. I don't care about the cutesy-voice person who ran away to join the circus. Shut up.