Hey, it’s Friday and I almost feel like myself again. Except I sort of feel like my sinuses are a huge radiator with a block of ice cream sitting on it, you know, the yucky old kind that came in a box with flaps. Who thought that was a good idea? I’ll tell you who: the box industry, that’s who.

Aren’t we glad the days of boxopolies have come to an end and we now live in the era of cling wrap. Hail, cling wrap overlords.

So, Strudel’s been screaming at the table for the past fifteen minutes while I’ve been checking my email for auction shit and updating the catalogue with last minute changes. I don’t know what happened to the database. It starting throwing 3075 errors, like I EVEN know what that means, which resulted in the catalogue not dumping to a Word file that only needed a little tweaking. It looked like it was trying to pull something I don’t even need.

Luckily I could dump it to Excel and cut and paste into word. It took SIX HOURS to format that shit. Of course I had to feed the kid and wipe her butt in between, and she yammered at me constantly, poor thing. Usually I am doing things like taking her to the park or reading to her after school.

But the catalogue is in place, and now I am waiting for it to be proofed. Since they’re pretty old school, I suspect that this will be a red pen affair, and if I even said the words “Track Changes” it would earn me nothing but a blank look. The scary thing is that this is what on time looks like. HUR. Eight days to go.

And now I have a fun weekend of database mongling. I know what it did last summer.

HEY the kid stopped screaming. HOW DARE I make her the toast with honey that she asked for. Probably the neighbors have already called CPS, though.