Thursday, January 09, 2014
An email intercepted by the NSA detailing the mundane life of an American citizen at work
- From
- Sean Conner <sean@conman.org>
- To
- Sean Hoade <XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX>
- Subject
- Re: Happy Birthday, Part Deux
- Date
- Thu, 9 Jan 2014 16:14:53 -0500
- From
- Sean Hoade <XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX>
- To
- Sean Conner <sean@conman.org>
- Subject
- Happy Birthday, Part Deux
- Date
- Wed, 8 Jan 2014 21:02:51 -0800
Young(ish) Mister Conner,
I hope you had a fine day. I know you're extremely busy, but I just wanted to take another moment out if your day to tell you how much you are appreciated and loved. I'm getting sappy in my old age, but what the hell. :)
All good thoughts, my friend.
Hoade
I did.
Today?
Today all I want is a nap. I am so tired. This morning, I had a dream where I was so tired I want to go to sleep. How weird is that, dreaming that I'm tired and want sleep.
Tuesday at the office? Flew by quickly.
Wednesday at the office? Flew by quickly.
Today at the office? It's like time decided it has enough of flowing quickly and was going to take it easy today and slowly drift by. The bastard!
So I'm sitting in my office, heavy jacket on (this is Florida, where it tends to be colder indoors than out, but I think you know that already), struggling, struggling I say! to keep my nose from hitting the keyboard. It hurts when that happens.
The project I'm working on has gone from the interesting 90% of the work to the dull, boring, dotting-every-t-and-crossing-every-i nit picky detail work that takes the other 90% of the development time to finish. And it's not the mindless dull, boring, dotting-every-t-and-crossing-every-i nit picky detail work, but the just-mindful-enough-that-I-could-only-wish-it-was-mindless dull, boring, dotting-every-t-and-crossing-every-i nit picky detail work that requires just enough mental power to make it ever so tiresome.
And you know what? Everything I typed so far? Take a guess at how long it took me. Go ahead, take a guess. Nope. Nope. Still to long. Nope. Three seconds. That's how much time elapsed from the time I started typing this reply to the time I finished the preceeding paragraph. When did I start travelling at relativistic speeds? Time hasn't moved this slowly since high school English, which, in an odd way, is a nice change from the wait-I-just-blinked-why-it-is-a-month-later time flying by, but it would be nice if I didn't have to deal with this just-mindful-enough-that-I-could-only-wish-it-was-mindless dull, boring, dotting-every-t-and-crossing-every-i nit picky detail work that requires just enough mental power to make it ever so tiresome.
Sigh.
Only another two seconds have passed.
At this rate, I think I could churn out a copy of Atlas Shurgged in ten minutes. Hmmm … scratch that, I think I would only be able to slug out a copy of War and Peace in ten minutes; Atlas Shrugged would take eleven.
Perhaps if I make another cup of tea …
-spc (I just blinked and now it's 34 years later … )
