Smallhouse Log

Valentine's Eve

So, I don't know if I mentioned, but after writing my chromosome simulator, but before backing it up, Pyxis Mali received a bad concussion and lost another hard drive. Worth fixing again? Well, the screen is held on only by wiring. I think it might be time to retire the old workhorse.

But after losing all that work (not that much work), I was pretty disheartened. Then I had a baby. Then I started playing Fall from Heaven II again... what I'm saying is, I haven't gone back to work on it. Until today. And recovered about a third of it in, like, half an hour.

So, heartened once more, I get back to work. I went ahead and registered a domain and e-mail address, because I obviously need more websites. Yes. I've got a lot of work to do.

Monday, second week without a federal government

Well, I wrote a chromosome simulator this week; that ain't nothin'. It's exciting to be excited about programming again. It's exciting to be finding the time to program again. It's really exciting to have a working chromosome simulator.

I mean, exciting for me. Your results may vary.

Friday, first week without federal government
"I grew up surrounded by whales." -Claire, 2010-10-04

Made myself a new toy tool to help with the current version of Plan I. I think we're on delta at this point; I have it written down somewhere. And you know what the trickiest thing was? Dealing with Daylight Saving Time. I have come to the conclusion that Daylight Saving Time, like the one-cent (and five-cent) coin, is not worth the trouble, and should be abolished. In the case of the clocks, leave them an hour ahead; that's fine.

I know there are more pressing political problems to solve, but these two would be nice as well. You know, if there was still a federal government to solve (ha! ha!) political problems.

Sunday, week before Riot Fest
"Technology sucks and we should all become witches." -telephone pictionary result

"Technology sucks and we should all become witches." Words to live by, indeed.

I have about three people offering me possible jobs right now, all at restaurants and bars they 'want to open'. That won't pay the bills, though, so I keep working a job I have grown to despise. It's time to find another real job.

It's been time for a while now.

Monday, Sixth Week of Summer School
"There's no information in toast." - student Ben, 2013-06-24

I have regrets. Most of them have to do with consuming dairy.

One more week of school, then a couple weeks of job hunting, then, hopefully, peace. Never quiet, though; that is not the lot of fatherhood.

So very tired.

Tuesday, twelfth week of Winter

Plan Ιγ achieving solid results. There was a brief hiccup around the time of the Folk Festival, of course, but I'm getting back on track. I'm happier, the house is cleaner, but there's one part that is not working like it should.

Monday and Tuesday are my 'weekend', and I had scheduled the same hours I would normally work as 'work time' for personal projects, programming, finishing the second bedroom, et cetera. The trouble is, Claire has her own plans for this time. She wants to do things together, which I like, but what she wants to do together is almost always plan, shop for, and cook a huge meal together; this can be, and generally is, a bit trying.

Justifiably nervous about appearing to complain about my wife online, let me explain: I enjoy cooking with Claire, very much. I enjoy eating the food we cook together, VERY MUCH. I am willing to go shopping, since a woman with a baby cannot carry much by herself and she likes to have me with her. And of course, it is frustrating to me to burn an entire evening (with much dilly-dallying) helping, at best, on one project, especially on what is nominally my day off. But I do all this with a glad heart and a smile on my face.

Menu planning, though, is fast earning an unredeemable black mark in my book. If I initiate the menu planning, whatever I propose is immediately thrown out. If I offer suggestions or criticisms along the way, they are ignored or dismissed. I am made to read cookbooks, a medium difficult for me to process and rarely edifying outside of the historical notes and personal anecdotes of the authors. This results in me sitting, eyes glazed over, hunger gnawing at my belly, for an hour or more while Claire pulls volume after volume off the shelf, makes notes in her notebook, chews on a pen while staring into space, and taking frequent cigarette breaks. And remember, this comes at the beginning of the evening's ordeal.

"Why not tell her how you feel?" one might ask. Oh, I have. Her passion to involve me in her favorite activities is admirable, and I do love her for wanting to share what gives her so much joy. I just... would rather get something done, you know?

Especially when I'm hungry.

Tuesday

"They knew that I was special when I came out spitting verses; my first word was 'Word!' and the rest of them were curses."

Iota sub gamma not formalized yet, mixed results so far. This is good: mixed results definitely trump no results.

Translation: My living room is so clean! I'm preparing something to eat that takes longer than five minutes! The website is fixed! (Well, fixed-ish... there's a weird jiggle on some links if the text is resized. It's weird. I think it's a rounding error that happens when the browser tries to also resize the padding around the text.)

Cats, however, remain very ill-behaved.