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Sep. 13th, 2005 08:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bobcatmoranWow. Yesterday must have been a Monday. I got to the office and was going to do my usual "check e-mail while waiting for people to show up," only to find that I couldn't log in on any of the computers. Not a single one. I asked Aterisk to come over and see if it was just me or if the computer was just being stupid, and he couldn't log in either. And, things being how they are here, that meant that we couldn't use any of the computers at all. Considering that it's getting to the point in the season where most of the work involves compiling data and writing reports, (not to mention the whole no e-mail, no LJ, etc.) this posed a bit of a problem. It turned out that sometime late Sunday, the Computer Person had gone through and deleted the accounts of all the seasonals who had left. Unfortunately, she also went through and deleted both my and Aterisk's accounts as well. *facepalm* Lucky us, she was also the only one who had high enough access privleges to set up new accounts for us and she just so happened to be taking yesterday off. So we spent the day logged in as our supervisor. Thank goodness the network isn't fussy about someone being logged into three computers at once.
Then, yesterday evening, I used the sprayer attachment on the sink, forgetting that it has a tendency to get stuck in the "on" position. I managed to forget this several times throughout the course of the evening, and each time I went to use the sink, I'd spray myself in the stomach. This morning, I had to be at the office literally at the crack of dawn in order to help out with a deer survey. So I was up--in the sense of being vertical, not necessarily in the sense of actually being a fully functional human being--horrifically early. I went to fill the kettle for tea, and my thought process went something like this:
Omigod, what am I doing up so early? Tired. So tired. Shouldn't've stayed up so late reading. Hey, I don't hear the water running into the kettle. Did I turn the knob on the faucet? Okay, yeah, I did. Good. No, wait, not good. This isn't working. And I'm wet. Why am I all wet? Oh, #$^*@ the %@$*& sprayer! At this point, I finally realized what was going on, and after a bit of fumbling, shoved the nozzle of the sprayer into the kettle. Then I had to go and change into some dry clothes so I wouldn't freeze to death and mop up the small puddle that had formed while I was spaced out. Clever me, I managed to spray myself about four more times today. The last one was accompanied by a rich variety of multi-lingual explitives and illogical statements about the parents of the sprayer's manufacturer. Note to self: talk to maintenence about this tomorrow.
Meanwhile, I just know that some of the first words out of my dad's mouth the next time I call are going to be, "So, how's the job situation?" And the answer is that I've barely started looking, and what I have found is discouraging in terms of having a gap of less than four months between this position and the next, especially if I want to keep doing stuff with plants. Ugh. I hate job searching.
Then, yesterday evening, I used the sprayer attachment on the sink, forgetting that it has a tendency to get stuck in the "on" position. I managed to forget this several times throughout the course of the evening, and each time I went to use the sink, I'd spray myself in the stomach. This morning, I had to be at the office literally at the crack of dawn in order to help out with a deer survey. So I was up--in the sense of being vertical, not necessarily in the sense of actually being a fully functional human being--horrifically early. I went to fill the kettle for tea, and my thought process went something like this:
Omigod, what am I doing up so early? Tired. So tired. Shouldn't've stayed up so late reading. Hey, I don't hear the water running into the kettle. Did I turn the knob on the faucet? Okay, yeah, I did. Good. No, wait, not good. This isn't working. And I'm wet. Why am I all wet? Oh, #$^*@ the %@$*& sprayer! At this point, I finally realized what was going on, and after a bit of fumbling, shoved the nozzle of the sprayer into the kettle. Then I had to go and change into some dry clothes so I wouldn't freeze to death and mop up the small puddle that had formed while I was spaced out. Clever me, I managed to spray myself about four more times today. The last one was accompanied by a rich variety of multi-lingual explitives and illogical statements about the parents of the sprayer's manufacturer. Note to self: talk to maintenence about this tomorrow.
Meanwhile, I just know that some of the first words out of my dad's mouth the next time I call are going to be, "So, how's the job situation?" And the answer is that I've barely started looking, and what I have found is discouraging in terms of having a gap of less than four months between this position and the next, especially if I want to keep doing stuff with plants. Ugh. I hate job searching.
