Sunday Night Waits

I'm in at work on a Sunday night, spending most of it trying to debug search functionality that won't work. 

Actually, I'm spending most of the time waiting for my code to deploy on the application server.  Seemed like a good time (five minutes or so at a pop) to update the ol' bloggeroo.  This entry is likely to be very scattered, very unfocused, and, probably, something that Dylan would call "Not very good."  Fortunately, there have been bad blog posts on this site before and the internet hasn't burned my blog down yet.

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A father, on his death-bed, tries to make his child understand that he's done terrible things.

"I'm no angel," he says to the young adult.

"That's all right, dad.  They don't have balls.  Anyway, last I heard, one of them was running Hell.  Who'd want someone like that for a father?"

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Fictional writing has been a luxury I cannot afford so much, lately.  It's been work, work, work, without much time for anything.  Unfortunately, writing is usually the first thing to go.  It's so much easier to turn on the tube, turn off my brain and lose myself in someone else's creation.

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I have started a contract where my work was to be mainly in design.  From there, there was to be an opportunity to construct code from the beginning of a project all the way through.  Instead, I find myself at work, at 11:41pm on a Sunday, wading through thousands of lines of code, trying to find a place where I went wrong. 

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It's getting to a point, tonight, where coffee isn't enough.  I'll have to make more, to keep myself going, but there comes a point where you just have to shut off and go to sleep, doesn't there?  Maybe not.  Maybe I just don't like waiting.

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Mom bowled in a league.  People who don't know my mom can say, "Oh yeah?" and not really mean it.  People are in bowling leagues.  They bowl with friends and it's no big deal. 

You can definitely tell the people who know the kind of person my mom was by how they react when I tell them about the bowling.  Their eyes pop and I'm met with incredulity.  I think Auntie Anne was the most surprised. 

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The thing that reminds me most about my mom is the feeling of warm glasses on my face.  When I first got my glasses, mom would always wash them in warm water before I left for school.  I could feel the warmth coming off of them and that was relaxing on my eyes.  Feels like love to me.

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12:30am, and I've finally managed to pinpoint the location of the problem.  Unfortunately, fixing it put the complexity of my favourite piece-of-crap method over the top for complexity again.  So, I've refactored some more, and I am once again waiting for my application to deploy. 

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Nick has the best sense of humour in the world.  I don't have to look at him and say, "D'you get it?" I just know he does. 

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Remember, no drinking this week.  It's dry week, leading up to Easter.  It's so that we can know what it was like for Jesus and the other prisoners up on the crucifixes.  I wanted to use crucifices, but LiveWriter assures me it's not a word.

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Apparently, two of the top linebackers, heading into the NFL draft, have tested positive for steroids.  Their management firms vehemently deny it, and no official word has come out about it.  Linebackers.  Hm.... do you think that maybe some team that needs a linebacker, but doesn't draft early enough to get one of these guys, maybe spread word (subtly, of course) in the hopes that one of the dudes would fall to them?  Shades of Warren Sapp are clouding this entire situation.

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The code works.  It's 1am.  Earned myself a tidy sum for the weekend's work.  Off I go, to jot down my hours, and then head home.