Call it a mental health day.  I have been very tired all week, but not physically sick.  Got to do something with those eleven weeks of accrued sick time. 

I returned today to a director asking me when I'd start working on a problem they've been having.  Start?  I assigned that to Mr. Angry on Monday morning and told him it was his first priority.  It should be done.  Am I surprised that it isn't done?  Of course not.  All he does is bitch and moan about how under-utilized he is, then sit on his ass and let important projects rot on the vine.  How do you teach someone who thinks they're smarter, better, and wiser than you?  Twenty-seven years old and he has all the common sense of a high school kid.  He should be here right now answering me as I ask him about his lack of regard for my instructions, but he's late as usual.  Late, or maybe 'starting offsite'.  He wants to take the big next step in his career, but he hasn't proven that he can handle what he does now.  I can only hope somebody, somewhere, hires him.  Soon.

Anyone who watches The Office (US version) will be familiar with Creed Bratton.  We have our own Creed here, an odd man who haunts the building.  His biggest activity during the day is stealing supplies.  Boxes of tissues, anything he can get his hands on.  Stealing food.  When someone brings in a dozen donuts to share he'll wander by and take six of them, and stash them in the freezer for later.  Food left over from a meeting?  He'll take it all if he thinks nobody's looking.  When you see him, he's usually carrying around something hidden in a ball of newspaper.

This morning I went down to the bathroom.  From outside the door I heard the thunk-thunk-thunk of someone dispensing paper towels.  Then again.  I stopped outside the door.  Again.  Thunk-thunk-thunk. Thunk-thunk-thunk.  I opened the door and there was Creed with a stack of folded-up paper towels in one hand, the other hand dispensing more.  He left with quite a haul of bathroom paper towels.  Such an odd man.

Webby referred me to a local gym he frequents.  One of those overly-enthusiastic trainer types called me the other night and enthusiastically told me how enthusiastic he was about getting me into the gym so I could participate in an enthusiastic workout.  I think this has something to do with the deal Webby and I have going, as we both work to improve our physical health, that will see him trying Judo and me trying yoga.  Well, I'm not ready to start yet.  My personal goal weight for starting Judo hasn't been met (although I am out of the dreaded "open" weight class), and my shoulder is on the mend.  Either way I'm not going to a fitness club to work out, enthusiastically or otherwise.  Surely Webby remembers my aversion to fitness clubs, not helped by my overly-enthusiastic trainer b-i-l.  I told the overly-enthusiastic trainer that I wasn't interested.  He was in the middle of offering me something or other to reconsider when I hung up.

Just found out that Mr. Angry screwed up again.  Three weeks ago he was told to install an application for our payroll person.  This application is poorly-written and requires the user to have administrative access to the local machine, which drives Angry nuts.  In a stalling move he took her PC for 'repairs' that took a week (she had to run payroll on a loaner machine), losing the cover to her case in the process.  When she got her own PC back the payroll applications were not installed, and once they were they didn't work properly.  Almost missed our bank deadline that week as Webby and I fixed it.  She had a problem running the payroll today, which I walked her through, and she asked me if I knew when the requested application would be installed.  Turns out that he took the machine away to install the application and not only returned it broken, but without the app installed.

He's still not here.