You were kidding with the “still employed” bit, right?

Yeah, yeah. No one would have been happy if I'd flipped the wrong switch and hosed half the company desktops, but it would only have counted as a strike. Another strike. I'd have joined the long line of company techs who've fouled up things in the past through stress, sloth and ignorance. Lots of stress, some sloth and plenty of ignorance, now that we've been cut down to our last remaining few. But this is, you know, the current corporate culture. They write about it business magazines. There are rules, spoken and unspoken: sometimes you stumble up, sometimes you stumble down; thanks much, please pass the jam. What more can be said? My brain is fried. I keep a journal. It all begins to come together, though: clarity in the midst of chaos.

Too purple, my friend. Too, um “slothful”. You're drifting.

The week has gone quickly, the month with a dis-associative spaced-out character to it. The psychological aspects of the holidays, in other words, have extended themselves well into the middle of this month. Normally, when the New Year arrives, it's get it back together, hunker down and hope it doesn't rain all the way through March. Other than my little project that climaxed successfully Monday, it's been spaced-out holiday time since the holidays started in November and now, although they've inexplicably continued well into this month, I'm afraid it's back into the void on Monday. Back to the grind. Back to the one day it's January and suddenly it's Thanksgiving: no memory of the days in between. My next entry, for all practical purposes, could as easily lament the loss of summer as encourage the arrival of spring. Or is this too much (or too little) for a rainy late evening Friday?

You do have to do something about this if you expect to retain readers.

Piffle and poof.