Lexifabricographer - Where good concepts go to die
Words that go together, although not necessarily terribly well
Sometimes I like to pretend to be other, better people
Stands for Play By Mail, or possibly Postal Brutality Mongers
Yes, of course I have one. Doesn't mean I'm not prepared to trade for yours, though.
This is where the bodies are buried
Talk to me
Get me the hell out of here!


Thursday, November 18, 2004

Not sulking, working

Noticed with some embarrassment that the last Lexifab entry was an excitable huzzah about the Fate of the Free World (followed by an indulgently self-pitying whinge about the outcome). Okay, so the world has not ended (yet) and I guess we wishy-washy bleeding heart liberals must accept that the mood of the American people at large does not correspond with our own. Sucks to be us, I guess.

Anyway, I havenít been stewing over the election outcomes here or abroad, sulkily refusing to engage with the world until the recounts (what recount?) are done. Iíve just been busy at work and home. Hella-busy, even.


Last days of Dickson

Weíre moving out of Dickson this weekend. Itís been Fionaís home since 1997, so thereís a touch of melancholy for her to be leaving it behind. Itís a bit weird for me too Ė Iíve lived there for nearly four years, which makes it my longest run in a single place of residence since I moved out of home.

We had Richard, the new owner, and his partner Kerry over for dinner last night. That was fun, but more importantly it made the transition just a little bit easier, especially for Fi. It helps to know that weíre handing the place over to people whoíve lived in share houses and flats with eccentric characters, so the occasional outbursts of demented argument from next door probably wonít phase them. And they have a relative whoís keen on landscaping, so itís possible that they will be able to make a go of the front yard. I look forward to seeing that Ė the hash we made of the job has always been a (very minor) source of humiliation for us, so it will be good to see all evidence of our horticultural ignorance scourged from the streetscapeÖ


Meanwhile, at Renovation Central

I havenít done much lately, but Meagan has been throwing herself into the renovations with a will, tearing down rotten wall panels and spacking over the gutted remains. After a comically dusty day of sanding back plaster last weekend, weíve finally finished the ceiling in the dining room. Meagan applied the first undercoat layer after that, and you can, with appropriate squinting and investiture of imagination, begin to perceive the warm and spacious room that it is destined eventually to become. Sooner or later.

Thereís a lot still to do, of course. Between them the kitchen and dining rooms have about thirty of forty metres of plaster cornice to attach, by all accounts a procedure requiring dispiritingly precise measurement and attention to detail (not my personal strong suits, obviously). Thereís a lot of painting to do, as well, not to mention further remedial work on the walls (particularly the ones that are composed of little more than numerous generations of sloppily-applied plaster). The floors will need some sort of covering before long. And hey, after that we have the lounge and study to see to. But for all that itís many long months of work before we can expect to be done, I am really looking forward to it.


Week off

Another thing Iím looking forward to is that Iím taking next week off work, for moving and renovating purposes. After the madness of the last few weeks, it will be a relief to turn my focus in a completely different direction from office politics and bitchiness and manoeuvring. That will all still be here when I get back, of course, but the break will do me good (especially since itís going to be followed quickly by another break at Christmas).

Work is better now that the old boss is up and away. The chaos is slowly beginning to settle and Iíve been offered a chance to stay on and manage a small project of my own. Not sure Iím really up to it Ė project management seems to require the ability to keep dozens of things in your head at once Ė but itís rather a welcome compliment that people whose judgment I respect seem to think Iím capable. Iíve also been offered a spot managing a project in a rapidly-disintegrating section which has two feral team leaders and a director that hasnít told anyone that sheís leaving soon. Hmm. No thanks. Iíll stick with the conceivably-surmountable challenge, I think.



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Wednesday, November 03, 2004

Címon America!

Donít let me down, US voters. At the risk of upsetting The Accidental Blogger, Iíd rather have The Zombie than four more years of the War Ape.

Anyway, enough of that. Itís barely possible, even if the War Ape does manage to fecklessly charm his way back into the White House, that the world will not be plunged into nuclear apocalypse. So having made that grudging concession, I will talk about something else now.


Work donít always suck so bad

The IT boss has announced Ė or rather, revealed to a select few confidantes, who have passed it on to the rest of us Ė that heís out the door as of next Wednesday. This is good news Ė basically, he now doesnít have time to bugger anything else up. Iíve already started organising meetings that he wonít be at. Itís a good feeling, and Iím really upbeat about the job today.

That might also be due to some really positive feedback at my performance review yesterday. My supervisor Ė who admittedly rarely has an unkind thing to say about anyone Ė praised my attention to detail, supportiveness and team-playeriness (not his Ďwordsí). He also passed on similar feedback from several other senior staff with whom Iíve had occasional dealings. Although I have my doubts that they could have been paying much attention during my recent meltdown, itís faintly possible that in the rush to beat myself up for being crap at my work, I have overlooked certain virtues that other people value. I was, for example, surprised to hear it said that whenever I am heard to criticise something in a meeting, itís usually serious.

That doesnít sound like meÖ


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