Category: Crankypantsing

Crankypantsing

Mulligan, Please?

Shelly

The Universe really shouldn’t make it difficult for me to get to work, because I might just take it as an invitation to turn around and go home. Between the elevators being out of commission and the escalators turned off, I had a hell of a time getting to the 3rd floor. And it does not help that I dislocated my kneecap and tore a ligament in my knee! Six weeks ago! It was just starting to get to the point where I could walk without it hurting or popping, so of course, I tripped over the goddamn cat last night and injured it all over again. Just in time to hike up two flights of escalator steps (you know, the extra tall ones?).

I can has do-over?

Crankypantsing, Meta

The Silver Lining

Shelly

Not a very big one, mind you, but there were a couple of good things to come out of yesterday’s blogular melt-town. First, I finally got around to cleaning out the blogroll. Second, I fixed the stupid paragraph spacing. That’s been bugging me the whole time I’ve been using this template.

In other news, it looks like Mr. Upstairs really is on his way out. One of his bedroom blinds has been up for the past week (I’ve never seen any of them open before), and it occurred to me that his lights haven’t been on when I’ve left for work (also unheard of). He’s definitely been AWOL. And then, he was back again last weekend, loading more stuff into his car. Now he’s gone again.

There’s all of that, but I also talked to Across the Hall Neighbor, who works for the property management company. The woman who runs the office told her that Mr. Upstairs hasn’t turned in his lease renewal form. Now, they send those out about a month (or a few days, as I found out last summer) before your lease is up. If you want to stay, you sign it and turn it in by the deadline. If you don’t turn in the form, you lose your lease. Meaning, you don’t have to give notice; you just move out by the final date and that’s that.

Crankypantsing, Meta

Crankypantsing about Crankypantsing

Shelly

One of the blogs I occasionally read is by a woman who really, really, really does not like tourists mucking up her lovely city. Having lived in a tourist town (albeit much smaller than San Francisco!), I know that it can get old, being surrounded by people who are unconnected and who don’t belong there. And in our case, people who would wander into our house, thinking it was a shop.

So, I can sympathize. Really. What I don’t understand is that she, herself, travels all the time. She’s always posting about going here or there, or about her travel plans for her next week off. Doesn’t that strike you as a bit hypocritical? I mean, she’s a tourist herself, and here she is griping about tourists. And I can guarantee you, her impact as a tourist on the small towns she visits is much greater than that of the folks who swarm San Francisco is on her.

In other news, there’s a vulnerability in the version of WordPress I’ve got installed on my blog. I’ve been reluctant to upgrade, because of all the hell I went through with having to reinstall Coppermine. I’ve noticed, though, that my blog is loading very slowly. I assumed it one of my web host’s periodic slow-downs, but apparently not. I looked, and someone hacked my blog account and loaded a bunch of code into my template. It was easy to nuke, and is running nice and fast now, but I guess this means it’s time to upgrade to a more secure version.

Fingers crossed! I’m downloading a back-up, in case things go ‘splodey. I won’t be able to reinstall from the back-up, but at least I won’t entirely lose 3 years worth of journaling, either.

Crankypantsing, Meta

Errors

Shelly

I has them. Or, my blog does. I upgraded WordPress this morning, which I’ve been putting off. After the fiasco I had with Coppermine going ‘splodey and the lack of help in fixing it, I just didn’t want to invite myself to an encore performance. Ugh.

So, first, my whole blog was hosed. Nice. I reinstalled from a back-up, and it’s working, except for the obvious errors. Apparently WordPress 2.3x doesn’t have the same structure as older versions, so it handles things like post categories and links differently.

And that’s about all I know. The actual posts are there, and comments seem to be working. I haven’t checked to see if there are errors when you try to comment. I don’t need to make myself feel any more stabby than I already do.

All this, because my blog was hacked and there was a bunch of code inserted into my footer template. It was making everything load slooooowly. I removed it, then decided I’d better upgrade. Silly me!

Crankypantsing, Photography

BREAKING NEWS

Shelly

I just took some trash out to the dumpster. While I was doing so, Mr. Upstairs carried a couple of boxes down to his car, and then, a microwave. I’m almost afraid to hope, but it seems like he might just possibly be moving.

I really think it might be true, though. The past week, he’s been extra noisy, with serious cleaning and furniture shifting.

Yay!

And if it’s not true, it’s an awfully dirty trick to be playing on me, and he ought to be ashamed of himself.

In other news, I went to the grocery store and the gas station this morning. My cupboards and my car were on empty. Despite everything at the grocery store having gone up in price since the last time I went (for example, the cheap-assed unbleached flour went up 25¢, and don’t even get me started on the subject of rice), it cost more to fill my gas tank–$59.26–than to buy two week’s worth of groceries.

But! I got some very cute little asparagus spears (tiny and tender), vidalia onions, green tomatoes (they’ll be fried, so I thought they were worth the risk), some very nice looking portabella mushrooms, limes, and some gorgeous green peppers (I eat them raw, like some folks eat carrot sticks).

Also, chives, but not as nice as the ones in my mom’s garden.

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Crankypantsing, My Garden, Photography

Coral Bells and Crankypantsing

Shelly

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These silly things are blooming furiously. They seem to like the shady spot they’re in.

And now for a new installment of Mr. Upstairs Theater! I don’t know what the hell’s gotten into him lately. He was pretty good (for him) over the last few months. Yesterday, I didn’t hear a peep out him until I was getting ready for bed, when he turned on some right-wing talking heads and watched TV for a couple of hours. Then he started vacuuming. At 11:30pm. Then he stomped around for awhile. I’m not passing judgment on his fashion sense, but I swear, he wears high heels when he cleans. The clomping noise is distinctive of heels and is very different from his normal thudding. At about midnight, he turned on the dishwasher. A few minutes later, he started playing the same damned song he’s been playing for the past two years on the keyboard. Or maybe it’s a harpsichord. At this point, nothing would surprise me. I finally fell asleep, only to wake up at about 2am to him playing really crappy classic rock and galloping on the treadmill.

And right now, he’s stomping around in the room above my computer room. I think someone would have to really work at walking that heavily. I mean, he’s a little chubby, but he’s not a big guy, so how the hell does he manage to make that much noise when he walks?

Crankypantsing

From the Department of Ridiculous Questions

Shelly

I’ve tried three times to heat up my lunch in the microwave, and each time, there was a line of people. The third time, when I came back to my desk, a coworker asked me what I was doing. I explained. My cubicle neighbor, who sits behind me and who is fixin’ to be named Miss Nosypants, asked me if it was something I had to heat up. Strictly speaking, I guess it’s not, but what the hell business is it of hers, and why would she think I’d want to eat something cold when I’ve repeatedly taken the time and effort to try to heat it up?

Veggies and rice, by the way. Sure, it could be eaten cold, but I think I’d rather go without, thankyouverymuch.

Crankypantsing

Sickies

Shelly

Ugh. I stayed home yesterday, in part because I had a hideous headache. So today (just like the day after every single day I miss work), my cubicle neighbor stopped to ask me if I had “the sickies.” What are we, 1st graders?! No, I didn’t have “the sickies,” ya’ nosy ghoul! I always feel like she’s afraid of catching the bubonic plague from me. Normal people ask if you’re feeling better, not if you’re still sick, onna counta it’s socially preferable to express concern for others’ welfare instead of obsess about your own.

That’s an improvement, though, over a former boss, who always asked me if my “systems” were functioning normally. WTF?! Dude, I had a migraine, which has nothing whatsoever to do with any “systems.” Andalsoplustoo, I’m back at work, so duh, I’m obviously feeling better, but thanks for asking in a way that didn’t make me feel like a vector of disease.

Crankypantsing, Pets, Photography

Useless

Shelly

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I think, by now, the entire world knows that Harriet is useless. This morning, there was a knock on my door. Harriet ignored it. When I answered it, there were two Jehovah’s Witnesses on my doorstep, waiting to ask me if I’d ever really thought about the significance of the story of Noah and The Flood. I have a feeling that any time of day would be too early to have that particular discussion, so I told them I’m Catholic and that I’d pray for them.

Anyway, Harriet. She’s useless. The least she could have done is bark a couple of times to scare them away, but nooooooo, she was too busy getting her beauty rest.