I’m sitting at work. Ruth, I imagine, is out on a fire call, assuming she heard the page over the band. She and Carrie were going to the Halloween party at the Sherbino. I guess they got in, because they’ve not come and found me yet.
I rather like drivel, the LJ client.
I love the Forrest Gump soundtrack.
It’s still blowing. Since this morning, the mountains aren’t really visible. There’s a haze of dust and smoke obscuring everything within 30 degrees of the horizon.
The moon’s a sliver, and it’s ominous out. It’s warm — we could have snow soon.
It’s dark now. Twilight, anyway. It’s not even quitting time yet. Carrie’s gone to Telluride with friends for a dead-bird dinner. I’m alone, but pretty happy. A good day at work, even if I didn’t call all the people I should have.
We just ran in the park with the leaves blowing. The wind is doing about sixty right now, and the leaves on the ground were blowing at about forty. It’s like flying, only the ground moves instead of your feet.
We now have an aloe vera plant named Cthulu.
I am sitting in my office — I have an office now. It is sunny through the windows on my left. The white walls reflect a lot of light, and the wood floor and wood table the computer sits on give a pleasant yellow glow to the light. Outside the window, the golden and brown colors of late fall hang out and play among the bushes and small trees in the courtyard. Beyond that, I see scattered rooftops — the corrugated of the Sherman building, the façade of it’s front, and to the left of that, the warm orange stucco of the Unicas building.
It’s just me and a desk in the office so far. My telephone works, but the answering machine isn’t here yet. No customers sent to call here yet, because I’m in and out while I set things up. The room echoes a little harshly. I need plants and a bookcase. I imagine nine-foot tall book cases and a rolling ladder. It won’t happen, but it would appeal to me greatly. I also imagine oak filing cabinets, four or five drawers tall, and three more tables like the one I have.
I’m killing time a bit — I go to a potluck at six, and I’ll go cook for that in a bit. In the mean time, I watch files transferring from Paradoxical’s old drive to the new one in the server over a slow wireless link. The new wireless system will probably come in in the next week, but for now, this is what I’ve got. I should have transferred these files a long time ago, but I’ve been a slacker, and too lazy to go to Ouray and actually do it right. There’s a bunch of audio recordings on there, I noticed — I wish I had speakers here so I could listen.
I’m thinking of Charlie, Platypus, Roya and Chris Black at the moment. I don’t know why that particular combination, but it’s what’s bouncing around my mind.
I shall own an ISP tomorrow.
I talked with John tonight until about 10:30. We have a rough draft of an agreement. It looks like it will be right around $50,000 for the business. I’ll take over some time in October.
I meet with him again tomorrow morning to flesh out the agreement and probably put some signatures down in ink. I’ll make enough to live on while I pay it off. In a year, I’ll make a tidy profit if I stay on top of the business. I can do that.
I am excited. I am anxious. I can’t wait for tomorrow.