It'd be one thing if I had plants or unwrapped food items sitting in my cubicle, but I don't. I've learned to be very careful over the years after having worked at another place with a bug invasion.
It was really hard to get any work done yesterday. I was totally unclear as to what my boss wanted from me, so she sent me a list. Today, without really trying, I wound up meeting my Thursday deadline. A few minutes later my boss wanted some other information that, unbeknownst to her, I had inadvertently generated a couple of hours earlier, thinking I had done something wrong.
I still have sore sinuses, and I'm not sure what to do. Thanks to the FDA I can no longer obtain phenylpropanolamine, and I'm part of the population for whom Sudafed does less than a sugar pill. I'm glad to see some OTC drug manufacturers are finally making sudafed-free formulas.
Last night we finally figured out what was wrong with my PowerBook. I first went to Microcenter to return the memory chip that didn't work, tried another one in the store, and wound up returning it, too. As I was walking out the store with my PowerBook in tote a man holding a microphone identified himself as being from NBC3. He asked me if I used computers. I pointed to the bag slung over my shoulder, replying, "That's what this is." Next thing ya know, I was being interviewed for the 11:00 news that night. Hee hee.
I called a few people while driving to CompUSA; I'd have called more people, but my cell phone has had a hard time getting a line out lately. Anyhow, CompUSA's guy was at least knowledgeable enough to know his memory wouldn't work with my PowerBook. I then tried Elite Computers in Cupertino, an authorized Apple Reseller and Repair place located across the street from Apple HQ.
The memory there was way more expensive than anyone else's, but it had a "lifetime warranty," so I pretty much knew it was Good Stuff. This time the PowerBook booted, but when we brought up the "About" window it only showed 192MB even though there was a 64MB and a 256MB chip in it.
"It's your logic board," the salesguy said. "They cost a lot of money. I wouldn't even bother."
"How much is 'a lot,'" I asked.
"Oh, about 400 dollars," he replied. The last time I checked that was way cheaper than a new computer. Given that it's still under 90-day warranty from its last trip to Apple, it won't cost me a thing.
The bad news: I'll probably have to send my computer away, and God only knows when it'll be back.
Next, I went home, fixed myself a burrito, then talked to Dr. Jane on the phone for a while. I tried sneaking out a few more phone calls to no avail; either the lines were busy or Warren was too close. I didn't tell Warren because he always watches that newscast.
When 11pm came up we watched together as we often do. He somehow didn't notice the TiVo unit switching to NBC3 or the fact that it had started recording the news. I then quietly watched and waited for the piece on having a SETI@HOME-style CPU sharing setup to find a cure for anthrax to come up. Warren's face was priceless as my face and name showed up on TV.
Afterwards he said, "You should have recorded it."
"I did," I replied, pointing to the red "record" light on the TiVo. "Didn't you wonder why the TiVo switched channels on us?"
My only real gripes with the piece:
- They shot me from below, making me look massively double-chinned
- I didn't have any make-up on, effectively washing out my features
- I was only listed by my name and city of residence, whereas some guy who was clearly way younger than me was shown as a "computer expert." Damned sexist pig reporter.
Warren and I rushed to the front of the house to listen to the KLIV simulcast to see whether Derrick Villa, my co-worker, former classmate, and pal, had been watching. It sounded like he was trying to not laugh, so we figured he must've noticed.