End of Days

I spent 13 hours and 20 minutes at the plant today. We had a bad PLC and our IT guru Gary had to come up from Utah, Gary who mumbles under his breath and calls all the computer stations "guys." "This guy is not talking to that guy." Jeff, who is enduring a trial by fire of sorts, darted around nonstop, agitated, and at one point exclaimed, "We've got sh*t scattered from hell to breakfast!" I defined "caveat" for Travis. And Allen Bradley, your software activation process is a holy living nightmare.

I feel like the world is ending. (The bees, where are all the bees? The price of gas! Local boy killed in Iraq! Ethanol is not even a Band-aid, you fools! Somebody on the Olympic committee hold the hosts accountable! Human rights, China: ur doin it wrong! OMG. I have to stay away from the news for a few days.) I am so bone tired I can't even function. I had pumpkin chocolate chip cookies for dinner (thanks M) and I have to decide if I really want to bother with this proposed interview in Napa, because I spent three of the most miserable months of my life in northern California and I'm not looking for a redux. I think they raised the fees on U.S. passports and Delta cheated Kelly and I'm starting to hate again. Hate, hate, hate the world. My fuse is so short this year.

I'm studying. I have terms like "semipermeable membrane" and "mineral flux" and ghastly, complicated chemical equations pecking at my brain like crows at a carcass. Do the temperature and pH of the source water affect the precipitation rate of iron and manganese when sodium dioxide is used as the recarbonation agent? Who cares? I'm going to bed.

But first, just because you're here, I'm going to break all your hearts:

Don't worry. She's fine. In fact, she's milking it for all it's worth. Molly has had more stitches in five years than any rag doll, and she's still one of the best dogs that ever lived.