Tuesday, December 14, 2004
It’s not quite a Jaguar
Under a bit of pressure work wise at the moment, so just a quickie. Today's snippet of genius: two separate complaints that I had disabled the automatic reminder in Outlook for meetings that I had set up. Apparently it's hard to remember to turn up to a meeting if the computer doesn't remind you 15 minutes before.
Also, Haloscan and Firefox seem to have fallen out, so I am unable to leave comments on my own blog. While I get round to figuring this one out, the answers to recent questions are as follows:
- 14th March
- I don't know, but I do know that ex consultants make terrible clients.
That should make sense to at least two people. In the meantime, more rambling from a very thin notebook...
A new house is like an old car. People who see my old Triumph will admire it, and I have to fight an urge that says “yes, but it needs new carpets, and the gear knob is wrong, and there is a dent just here if you look…”. It takes a lot of willpower to smile and say thank you. Every owner of an old car has a to-do list in his head, sorted according to money and time, with an extra, bonus, ‘when I win the lottery’ section.
As with cars, so it is with houses. Visitors admire the new place, and you have to wrestle a compulsion to point out the bits that the builder screwed up, and where the finish didn’t turn out quite right. They admire the effect on the bathroom walls, and I am only just getting over the feeling that it looks like a jail cell. I just smile and say thanks. “We’re very pleased with it, do you want to see my car?”
Also, Haloscan and Firefox seem to have fallen out, so I am unable to leave comments on my own blog. While I get round to figuring this one out, the answers to recent questions are as follows:
- 14th March
- I don't know, but I do know that ex consultants make terrible clients.
That should make sense to at least two people. In the meantime, more rambling from a very thin notebook...
A new house is like an old car. People who see my old Triumph will admire it, and I have to fight an urge that says “yes, but it needs new carpets, and the gear knob is wrong, and there is a dent just here if you look…”. It takes a lot of willpower to smile and say thank you. Every owner of an old car has a to-do list in his head, sorted according to money and time, with an extra, bonus, ‘when I win the lottery’ section.
As with cars, so it is with houses. Visitors admire the new place, and you have to wrestle a compulsion to point out the bits that the builder screwed up, and where the finish didn’t turn out quite right. They admire the effect on the bathroom walls, and I am only just getting over the feeling that it looks like a jail cell. I just smile and say thanks. “We’re very pleased with it, do you want to see my car?”
