Mine hands hath not been idle. They have been laboring, though not on postings here as anyone capable with a calendar can judge. Sorry, that's the Two Gentlemen of Lebowski speaking. I'm currently reading through a Shakespearean re-penning of the Coen's grand slacker manifesto, The Big Lebowski and kicking myself for not having done it first.But that is not the reason I have forgone not only writing, but exercise, Facebook, family outings, and reasonable temperament these past four weeks. Truth be told there are two reasons. You don't really want to hear the first reason. The first reason quite simply makes for a shitty tale. It's as boring as can be. OK, but you asked.
The first reason was there is an application-layer packet tracer enabled on some Cisco firewalls that scans a subset of port traffic, one version of which has a bug in which CPU utilization will spike and sporadic packet drops can occur, when coupled with a (previously to Friday morning undiscovered) ten-fold increase in database load on a separate application sharing DB space, a ramping up of zombie database connections can occur on your web servers and...I'm certain I lost half the readers there. OK you diehards, thanks for sticking around.
Well to tell you the truth the reason is because I can understand and type such a ludicrous, technical thing, and the accompanying month-long overtime ordeal it takes to learn such a thing when your job depends on it. It's a hell of an education when technology goes sour like this, but a body can take only so much of such cram sessions. I've lost several pounds of muscle mass and I would swear, numerous patches of hair from where I pulled it out trying to find this bug. On the bright side I can now talk like Scotty if need presses.
After four weeks of a problem like this one, one which had you seriously wishing you had chosen fine arts instead of computer engineering, there is an actual, palpable sense of a yoke being lifted. Honestly I feel several inches taller and years younger. This was without a doubt one of the best three day weekends ever. Upon my triumphant Friday evening return to the homestead, I chased the boy around the yard then actually sprung for takeout. The next day we drove to the beach and flew kites. Sunday we threw a birthday party for the kid. Monday I drank rum and played video games. My apologies to the ghost of Dr. King. All of which was completely unaccompanied by any worries whatsoever of work. Completely.
Life even smells better after you get past a rough haul like this one. Or at least it must, as lately I find myself taking deep breaths and exhaling wistfully as I grin like a schoolboy. This is how the freshly paroled must feel.
The other reason for my authorial absence is the 69 Mustang's eventual return to the road and subsequent ignition fire at 90 mph. Not to fear, all survived the smoky, panicked pull to the curb but a few Nixon-era smoldering lengths of wire awkwardly cowering behind the dash. But that damn thing is it's own story for another day. I'll do a motor-head edition for all you grease monkeys out there soon enough.
Anyway, back to business as usual. Thankfully there aren't too many readers hanging on this pulpit's every word else I'd feel guilt for having left my flock untended. Well that's true in spirit if not in number, the Bunker has been reeling in a few hundred eyeballs each month now. Which you would think would make me as proud as a strutting cock in a locked hen house, but for the fact that 9 out of every 10 hits we get around here is someone looking at that damned Snoopy photoshop I did of Charlie Brown reading a scandalously discovered Playbeagle magazine. That stupid joke has gotten hits from, seriously, something like 170 different countries. Every day I get people from Kuala Lumpur to Guam looking at that. I guess people the world over love a good picture of Charlie Brown chastising Snoopy for his crude taste in canine pornography. Thank you, Google images, for this weird bit of Internet pseudo near-fame.
No comments:
Post a Comment