"Something better" turned out to be a very nice executive chair with about as many levers as a 747. Only when we got all the parts out of the box, one of the handles on one of the levers turned out to be broken, so everything went back into the box.
On my way home from work--well, not really on my way home, as it was actually several miles out of my way--I stopped and exchanged that one for another. And when I got home and set to assembly, guess what I discovered?
One more trip to OfficeMax later, Mrs. Fungus has a new chair that looks nice and is extremely comfortable.
Me? I'm still using my cheapo Ikea chair; it's fine. I'm going to use the spare to set up the Monk's Cell in the basement: El-Hazard will be my writin' computer down there, and I'll have it set up at a desk (or desk-like edifice) with a wireless card in it to let me access the Internet. Since the machine can't handle any real games I ought to be able to write on it without any serious distractions, and it's got enough horsepower to let me run Pandora so I have some nice music to listen to while I write.
* * *
Work was actually almost pleasant today, but for a couple of frustrations. I ended up staying an hour past my quitting time because there was so much that needed doing, but it was in fact a pretty decent day; though it wasn't sysiphean I was busy and the time went quickly.
Kind of surprising considering that I only got about four hours of sleep last night.
Tomorrow is Friday the 13th, and it's a full moon on top of it; I expect things to be...interesting. I'm hoping that it won't be too insane, but the old superstitions still hold sway because there is something quirky and uncanny about the effect that the movements of the tides have on human beings. We do not understand all the ways in which we are connected to our environment; it's a chaotic system and there are so many variables that it's impossible to track them all. Whatever happens I hope to take it in stride. I'm not particularly afraid of bad luck, but Friday the 13th has a history of bringing me weird luck. (Sometimes I think 13 is my lucky number. I lived in the 1300 block on my street in Cedar Rapids. The digits of my street address added up to 13, and I lived in apartment 13.)
Being superstitious goes along with me having an anxiety disorder. I'm not crazy enough to carry around all sorts of good luck charms, but I suffer real apprehension if I fail to say "Rabbit, rabbit" the first time I get up on the first day of the month. (The worst part? I made the mistake of reading an encyclopedia of superstitions. What do you do when superstitions conflict? "Group 1 says it's bad luck to do A." "Group 2 says it's bad luck not to do A." *sigh*) My life got a lot easier after I started going to church again, because I realized that faith in God takes care of a lot of that nonsense for you.
* * *
I tried taking a look at the synopsis for #RELEASE_CANDIDATE_ONE and realized that I'm still stuck on how to do it. I also tried adding more to the flashback, but that, too, was beyond my abilities.
There are a bunch of things I'm unhappy with about the other extant works in the same universe. I have a lot of work just to get there from here, but that's not going to work out if I can't cudgel myself into writing. Problem is, after I get home from work, I'm just so drained I can't think about anything useful.
Still--the premise of the flashback is starting to take shape, and as I continue to work on the thing the implications of the technologies that drive it are starting to become plain to me. This story is meant to explain a lot of the background of this SF universe, ancient history and how the present-day universe was shaped by the prehistoric events.
The protagonist of the flashback is a bitch but the story is starting to get really interesting to me, which helps.
* * *
I think it would take about $50 worth of materials to restore the tub surround to its former glory. The tile is $11 a case, for crying out loud; how much could water-resistant drywall, mastic, and grout cost? I also know I could tear out the old stuff and have drywall up--maybe even the tile, too--in six or eight hours. The mastic would have to cure for 24 hours, after which I could grout the bitch. Let that cure for a day, then caulk--presto.
Fourth of July weekend would have been perfect, but my sister announced she and her husband were coming here to stay for four days--no, I didn't have a choice; isn't that lovely?--and so that project has been back-burnered. I can't take the house's only working shower out of commission when we're going to have houseguests, invited or not.
Well, that's how it goes.