January 30, 1997
Dear Everyone:
have a desk again.
I have a phone again.
I have a computer again!!!
Unfortunately, my computer can’t talk to the
printer just yet because we switched network technology in order to be
compatible with the San Francisco and “Pleasanton” people who are coming
out this weekend. So I have
to go to another PC to print documents.
But that’s a small price to pay for a nice big, window-less
cubicle. And besides, the
printer is still out in the warehouse so I have to journey halfway
across the building anyway.
Nevertheless, it’s progress.
I’m still trying to figure out where everything
should go in our Brave New World.
Should the recycle box go to the right of the phone or the left?
Do I want the stapler in this drawer or that one?
(Unfortunately, we each get only one short drawer; the rest are
all intended for filing.) In
addition, I still have eight boxes of
stuff coming out from my San Francisco office this weekend.
At that time, I will often have two of everything.
Two staplers. Two
staple-pullers. Two pairs of
scissors. Two paper clip
dispensers. Many, many pens
and pencils. A veritable
Noah’s Ark of
office supplies. I may hold
a “garage” sale. In the
meantime, I’ve designated the SI (Special Items) room as “AG” (“’A’s
Garage”) for To Be Determined things.
This week has been kind of nice because I’m the
only live person in my “alley”.
All the other cubicles are unoccupied until next week.
So I’m free to play my music if I want.
Not that I’m around to hear it much of the time.
Still lots of crises to cure, like the aforementioned not being
able to print. Nevertheless,
the progress continues to progress.
In other news...
After about three weeks, “Jeannie” was in serious
need of a movie and decided on (of all things)
The Relic.
Anthropologist (they’re always dumping on the anthros) sends
something to a museum in
Chicago. Next thing you
know, people are getting their heads handed to them...literally.
Perky scientist and cynical cop are the only ones who can figure
out what’s going on, or even count to three, for that matter.
This is your basic Monster-In-The-Dark formula.
Model makers put a lot of effort into creating the most
ludicrous-looking beastie since
James Arness
dressed up as
The Thing.
“Scientific” explanation is also absurd.
Furthermore, it suffers from TMS (The
Mummy Syndrome) in that no matter how slow the heroine runs or how
fast the monster gallops, it never catches up to her, just like in all
those old Mummy movies. Nice
pyrotechnics near the end.
Just finish your popcorn in the first 15 minutes.
Love, as always,
Pete
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