Tastes like ashes in my mouth

Can I just write off these last few months, please? If it wasn’t bad enough that my monitor displays a white line across the bottom of the screen (for me, but not for the service technician!) and my computer doesn’t always start up (which now forces me to buy an extended warranty), a stupid SUV driver forced me to maneuver in cramped quarters while trying to get out of the Subway parking lot for lunch today—and I wasn’t up to the challenge. I managed to jump a curb, and thereby screwed up my car’s alignment. I get to visit Les Schwab tomorrow afternoon so that my car will stop veering to the right.

And, even more annoyingly, my right hand’s index finger feels arthritic from repetitive mouse clicking at work. (Believe it or not, I click more at work than I do at home—mostly because the program I use believes that “more is better” when it comes to the number of dialog boxes you have to wade through to change settings.) Now that I’ve injured it, it gets irritated by the smallest things. And “smallest things” includes typing too much.


Consequently, my desk is now set up for left-handed mousing. I’m nowhere near as bad at that as I might have guessed, though I can tell that my body doesn’t like the idea of flailing my left hand around a mousepad anywhere near as much as doing so with my right hand. In other work-related news, Susan was once again singing Another One Bites the Dust around the halls. This means, of course, that another coworker has given two weeks’ notice. Yay us.

In actuarial-study-related news, I’ve managed to crack my Price Theory text and have begin my reintroduction to the thrilling world of microeconomics. I’m guessing I’ll be able to get a decent bit read while waiting at Les Schwab tomorrow, provided that I’m not distracted by banal chatter like last time.


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