At 9pm I should have a bottle of vodka in my paws. I had two mice.
At 11pm I should have a bottle of vodka in my paws. I had two mice.
At 1am I should have an empty bottle of vodka in my paws. I had two mice and a trackball.
I hate Citrix.
The only highlight of the evening was stumbling across Voice of the Hive, an utterly fascinating read which kept me occupied while waiting for Citrix to write the 430,000 Registry entries it seems to need.
I arrived home to find that yet another one of the precious few activities which bring me any sort of joy in life is won't be available for the next couple weeks. She'd been to a dentist and had had to undergo painful surgery on her jaw. The fuck had given her no pain meds, just some ibuprofen. I managed to find one Parkodín tablet, the last scrap of serious pain medication in the Doghouse. Although only 10mg of codeine, it was enough to let her fall asleep.
I switched on my game/PhotoShop computer (mucho memory, high-end video card) to play some GTA:SA and heard a clock ticking. There's no clock in the computer room; it was the game machine's main drive which has a 250g of games, applications, filters and scripts, all of which I get to reinstall this weekend.
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