I want to talk about underwear for a moment.
Now, duly warned, you have the option to click elsewhere on the dub-dub-dub before reading further. Right? Right.
Men’s underwear usually comes in two color schemes: All white, or a variety pack of colors. The colors are, for the most part, something on the white-to-black greyscale spectrum or a subdued kind of blue or green. None of it really matters because ninety-nine days out of a hundred nobody’s going to see the underwear anyway.
Okay, except those dudes who still insist on doing the saggy pants thing. I have never and will never understand that, but whatever.
Why, then, did the makers of my current brand of underwear decide to throw bright orange into the mix of available random colors? I’m not just talking about kind-of-orange, oh no. This is high-vis orange. This is “it’s hunting season please don’t shoot me” orange. This is a kind of orange which, were it any louder, would require donning protective eyewear before pulling the garment piece out of the drawer in the morning.
It boggles the mind. I wonder how this got past the committee which almost certainly was in charge of approving color choices.
And these are the thoughts that drift through my mind on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Aren’t you glad I’ve started using my journal again?
I didn’t think much of it at the time. “Hey, the Pacific Science Center has an exhibit about the Terracotta Warriors.” “Oh, that sounds neat.”
Some days later: “You need to put in for three days off in early August.” “Why’s that?” “Remember that exhibit I told you about?” “Ah. Neat!”
So last Wednesday morning, we departed by train for Seattle.
Looking north from the railroad bridge over the Willamette toward the lovely St Johns Bridge
I love being an Oregonian. It means that I took care of my civic responsibility over a week ago. If you haven’t yet… please do.
No, today’s fun isn’t about voting. It’s about leaving on a business trip. I’m headed to IT Nation in Orlando FL for the rest of the week. Yay? I haven’t been through the airport/airline/hotel process since the Datto training a couple years back. My anxiety levels are, as you could probably guess, stratospheric.
I’m bringing the same duck as last time, though, so keep an eye on my (rubber duck) Twitter (and maybe Instagram) for some of that, won’t you?
Wish me luck.
As I did last month, this month I took a pair of three-day “staycations” to burn more of that overabundance of time-off hours before they expire. Great idea, right? I’ll get things done, right?
Last week: The heat arrived. Setup the air conditioner and mostly stayed in front of it for three solid days, accomplishing little else. Of course, once Saturday arrived, the hot weather went away.
This week: I think something I ate on Tuesday disagreed with me. Violently. Quite violently. I have spent most of three days either in bed or in the bathroom, never far from either.
Oh well. If I hadn’t taken these days off for vacation, I’d have ended up using them for sick days. Convenient that I scheduled my illness in advance, isn’t it…?
This week is getting an early start on kicking my ass:
- Sunday Night Insomnia with a vengeance.
- Remembered to do dishes and take out garbage this morning, forgot to grab lunch.
- MAX train broke down one stop away from where I needed to go. (The operator had to be talked through cycling the breakers. That’s right: They rebooted the light-trail train.)
- BurgerVille’s closed today, so no high-octane breakfast to boost my energy levels.
- Half the office is on vacation or out sick.
- The link between two of our key work systems is broken for no reason I can determine.
Is it too late to throw my hands up and head back to bed? (Yes. Yes, it is.)
I walked out the door this morning, backpack on my shoulder and trash bag in hand. As I reached the bottom of the stairs I looked to the East to see what kind of sunrise we were getting.
Yeah, that wasn’t too shabby. Then I turned toward the dumpsters and looked up to see… This.
No, but seriously.
I tell you what: Hillsboro Oregon gives fantastic sky, sometimes.