Argh, my parents are all confused and upset this morning. They called my sister to complain about being hungry and having colds. They are in a building with 24-7 support! And yet the first thing they do is call their daughters.

As it is, I have to take this afternoon off to take my mother to an appointment, and then tomorrow I'm taking my dad to the neurologist.

I didn't sign up for caretaker status. But apparently I did.

Belgians have the coolest names. I just looked up a guy named Toon Putzeys. (Best Belgian name ever: Taco B. M. Monster. That is his actual name. He is a pharmacological researcher.)

Almost lunch time. I'm getting nervous. I did figure out that the person I'm being introduced to is taking over the role of someone I do work with. But what I do for that person is so minimal and I'm actually looking to pass the work off to someone else.

Nervous.

Speaking of small planes (well, when compared to a 747 or A380):

World War II in Color: American Bombers and Their Crews, 1942

The picture of the guy working on a ball turret of a B-17 while sitting next to a doggie is my fave.

eta: unpublished until now.

Best Belgian name ever: Taco B. M. Monster.

Wow. I'm curious to know more about him, but I am actually embarrassed to google that.

There are a couple of projects that I've been procrastinating on because of reasons, and I decided to start tackling them today so that I have updates for my manager when we meet this afternoon.

Naturally, today is becoming the day where everyone suddenly needs me to be doing something else.

Isn't that always how it is? I have just hit the point in my planning that is probably just procrastination. I'm nervous about carrying out the task, and it would probably be easier if I just go to town and get the tool, but instead I am just futzing about.

I've got a legal article open in my browser, written by Carl T. Bogus. And no, it's not a parody.

I'm so grateful: one of my coworkers had finally had enough of the chatter in the office, and sent out a long email demanding the chatterers cut it out. There's a little group of them in the center aisle of our cube farm who were going on and on and on recently, just talking and talking about politics and movies and so forth. And my coworker finally had enough.

If I'd done it, I probably would have been labeled a bitca and gotten in trouble, since I'm a contractor. But yay for unpassive aggressiveness!

Sweet Baby Jesus, person on the other side of the cubicle wall! Why do you think we're interested in the condition of your scabs??? And blessed be, other people, why are you apparently interested?

I am caught in the middle between a PM and a consultant. I am just a lowly tester. I know nothing.

I came very near to applying for a job at the UK Parliamentary Archives yesterday. But then it became clear that you couldn't apply without already being able to work in the UK. It was a bummer.