When I pointed out that as recently as a month ago, an attempt to do that resulted in hysterics, she said that "She's not the same person now."

Umm... no?

We had a fire drill an hour or so ago, which was mildly irritating--having one five minutes before you planned to go for lunch--pisser. But I delayed my 2:00 and told him I'd swing by his desk since I'd pick up lunch instead of going straight back in (and skip the crowds for the elevators). Except they were doing a floor by floor drill, so I got turfed out of the cafe mid-sandwich, and not just onto their patio, but 300 feet away. Uh, is that fair to ask of an enterprise? Has anyone here ever been fire drilled out of the establishment at which you were eating?

Good thing, though, that I'd not taken my second sally down the stairs of the day yet. Now that's taken care of. But my two o'clock is chilling in another conversation--with a guy who knows what we're supposed to talk about way better than I do. Oh, oops. Maybe I'll just sit at my desk and raise risks and then move departments.

Julie,

what did your boss do to her finger?

Timelies all!

I'm sorry about Jeeves, Anne.

{{{Consuela}}}

I'm reading an author who keeps writing dialogue segues into description like this:

"Come run with me!" John sat stubbornly silent.

Is there a rule that I can bonk her with? It's not always that obviously wrong--often enough I have to go back and reset who said what, or at least remind myself it's that author.

I just had to show one of the developers that you could display images using CSS alone (it wasn't in the page's HTML!). Now I need to ask him to do something using JavaScript, and frankly--I'm scared.

This is how crazy my boss lady is. She was meeting contractors to get an estimate on residing her house this morning and felt shamed by the state of her lawn and what the burly contractors would think of her, so she broke out the lawnmower.

Now, the grass was wet and kept gumming up the mower deck. So every few passes she'd turn the mower off and wipe the clippings off the blades . . .

I can't even talk about it, it's too gross. The doctors are delaying surgery for whatever reason, and have forbid her from going into work where all the dirt is. If she's lucky, they can reattach the tip. If it gets infected, they'll have to amputate to the first knuckle.

Fanfic porn has me worried which knuckle this actually is.

I feel bad because my next thought on reading this [link] was "You shoulda kept the dash. The dash was important."

But that can be addressed at any time. It's a touching gesture.

(Seriously, how can you not know CSS can display images when I gave you the CSS with the image reference in it?)

Julie,

I just got the heebie jeebies! My fault for asking!

Assume curiosity dead.

Consuela, I am so sorry. Much love and ~ma to you.

Also, thank you all for the condolences on my sweet Jeeves. I'm sad (obviously), but also feel oddly relieved now that the worst is over and I no longer have to watch him deteriorating. I did get a bit weepy when I came home today and my little buddy wasn't waiting for me at the door.

My friends' dog got a bad cut on her face recently, and they kept saying "she ran into the lawn mower," BUT the lawn mower was not on at the time! And the dog tripped or something. So it's not good, but not the immediate image that sentence gives you.