Work was what it was. I only got through about a quarter of what I wanted to get done today, although I guess that I got any work done at all should be something to celebrate. My desire to be even remotely productive has been obliterated by the fact that a month after my review I still haven't heard a word about my raise beyond "the paperwork is still being done." I think I'll write an angry e-mail to my manager tomorrow about the matter of the salary increase. I had stupid helpdesk tickets that I will transcribe here for your amusement tomorrow if I feel like it or have some time to kill. I expect the later to be the case rather than the former.
After I got home I knocked back a couple Cape Cods while I puttered around online. Cape Cods are the nectar that is achieved by the liberal joining of vodka to cranberry juice. The way I mix them the joining is very liberal indeed, but somehow I just didn't feel them tonight. Maybe my liver has decided to get back on track?
Now I think I'll go remake my bed, brush back some of the sand dune that Ra creates by tracking kitty litter out of his pan and then read for a while.
A voice like a whisper is bound to be heard
