Tuesday, June 25, 2013

In Port (smouth)

It's a Tuesday, we're back at the Home Office. Which is in Portsmouth. Hence the pun-riddled title. Sorry, it's all I've got. The weather is hot and humid, the air handling systems in my office are running at way less than peak efficiency (if they're running at all) and I am just coming down off of my "travel high". Not to mention that there was a computer system in the next room with this mildly annoying alarm which seemingly had been GOING OFF ALL BLOODY MORNING!!!! (Chap finally showed up to turn it off, I had him show me how to do so. Why there is an unmonitored and apparently unimportant alarm on that system puzzles me. But not enough to lose sleep over.)

Whoa, wait a minute "travel high", what's that all about?

Well, when I'm on the road (as I have been for the past eight weeks) things are different. I'm in a different environment and things just feel, oh I don't know, kind of "special". In addition, being on the road gives me a lot to whine about. Now mind you, no one, absolutely no one, listens to that whining but still, in my own mind I feel put upon and I have convinced myself that I am doing this for the betterment of mankind.


Well, no. Not really. But as Buck and Bill Belichick like to say, "It is what it is."

There was a bit of a mild panic Up North on Monday. There were pleas of "we broke something and you need to come up here and fix it" and "oh my God we are all doomed". A couple of quick e-mails sorted that out. Seems that after we got everything working, someone decided to make a bunch of unneeded and uncontrolled changes. Changes were rolled back, hands were slapped, people were made to stand in corners wearing dunce caps and all returned to as it was when I left.

But for a moment I was contemplating an unscheduled trip back Up North. But that minor crisis passed. So for now, I have nothing to whine about. Which is good. I think...


  1. For the third day in a row, it is raining here.
    Where it is usually somewhere around ninety degrees, it's having a hard time reaching 70.
    The tourists are bitching.
    The locals are reveling.

    re: the pic - they just don't make tin cans like they used to.

    1. Tourists always bitch about rain. Locals only bitch about too much rain.

      I do believe in your day the cans looked more "war-like", bristling with guns and such.

      It's all about missiles now-a-days. FWIW there is a 5-inch gun forward of the deck house.


Just be polite... that's all I ask. (For Buck)
Can't be nice, go somewhere else...

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