Today refuses to sink in until I process yesterday.
Buffer overflow, something inside me keeps screaming, regardless of still bleeding steak lunch or impromptu hugs from a team mate.
My inner self sounds supiciously like a 1200 baud modem, but I could be misinterpreting a boop bap or two. Maybe I'm really only 300baud inside. Rubber cradles and everything.
When last we spoke our young heroine was venturing out to find herself a sandwich. Our young heroine wandered back four minutes later, and sat munching in her office awaiting the dreaded meeting.
The one where we find out that all this research has been for naught and that everyone's going to be heading in "new directions".
I have to admit, the implied threat that surfaced some weeks ago has been eating ragged holes into my stomach lining.
The fact that Peter only gets more manic when he's panicked doesn't help, much as I adore the hyperactive little twit.
The meeting was scheduled for 2pm, and I was asked to hang around and wait for them to discuss "private affairs", and be ready to get called in.
Given that by 4pm I was still sitting at my desk, attempting to churn out documentation about the dependencies of aforementioned working code, and that Philippe was nowhere to be found and Peter was getting significantly more manic by the moment, I was something of an anxiety attack in physical form by then.
I was already planning to manifest myself on the masses when Philippe popped in, stole Peter, and I was left to attempt to squash the nonsense going on in my head.
Point being.
I wandered into Philippe's office shortly before 5pm. He mentioned something involving that PAM stuff I had looked into months ago.
I said "wouldn't it be really useful if..." and Philippe's eyes lit up and we were off and running and all we talked about for the next hour was linux linux linux crypto this, PKI that, SSH this and opensource that and the sort of thing I talk about in hushed tones with affirmed geeks over beer.
"Can you do it" he said.
"Can I? MAY I?!?" stammered our suddenly terrified-again heroine.
So I left late, after working out a plan to get me through until Thursday when we work out The Plan. I have to finish packaging aforementioned finally working java thing, complete with downloadable client and demo applications and bilingual readme files (anyone want to do one in spanish? ;), launch the portal by Monday (with the demo on it, meep), submit the package to the LUG, which of course means that I have to have a linux package done too by Wednesday, and, uhm... The rest is on the whiteboard behind me somewhere.
So I leave, scour Chinatown for the meatfluff I figured would make a creative and appreciated birthday gift, get home around the time I should be meeting the kids, change into something terribly low-cut, and trounce out.
Forget the neatly ribbonned gift on my bed, park, run back up to get it, trounce out again.
Light a cigarette at a red light (it's *MY* car I sure as fucking hell am going to smoke in it) and jerk my head up to the noise.
It went something like "eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek" following by a screeching of wheels and the disappearance of a black BMW around a corner surprisingly fast.
Heart plummeting despite the surging adrenaline, I turn my head ever so slowly to the right. My breakaway mirror is broken away, flat against the hood of the car.
I hit the gas screaming "FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK" all the long way down Sherbrooke.
By the time I've circled the block ten times or so to park, I've hurled any remainder of care I've got through the lowered windows into rushing wind that already smells of winter.
I stop swearing.
I check out the damage.
The car that I just spent the last of my savings fixing now has the precise same scratch all along the passenger side again, only wider this time. And more dents.
Fuck it. I'll drive the fuck out of it this winter, and y'know, I'm glad I don't have to worry about it anymore. I've been thinking too much about a damned car.
Point being. The birthday beer binge.
Prettyboy Dave is apparently the Dave that is dating Paul's charming little sister. I couldn't stop laughing. She wants help with math and physics. If I remember anything, I'll be only too thrilled to do it again.
And then Paul turns to me and begs me to leave my boys.
Y'see, I'm gaming with Paul and Riz and Sean and Gary up until Bruno finishes school and I can go back to my regular game.
I made it fairly clear that I'm theirs for October, but all bets are off afterwards.
Apparently they really want me to stay and I'm terribly flattered. Even quiet Gary in whom I first mistook silent appreciation for disapproval.
But I made it clear. If it comes down to a choice between my surrogate family... That, and I really don't have time for two games.
He was very insistent.
I was very flattered.
I offered him a deal.
I'll keep playing, so long as the sexual favours don't run out.
"You're serious?"
Yep.
"Who? Me or Riz?"
shrug
And suddently they're off in a corner vigourously nodding at each other whilst I try to coax Gary into talking about anything.
Paul returns to the table, leans his fingers against it and announces quite professionally "It's a deal. How about a tag team tonight?"
And my head hit the table so fast I may have worried a few partygoers.
But head filled with the implied imminent miracles at work if I managed to get a month's worth done by Wednesday, I groaned.
I told them the story of last time I had to make a choice at Hatter's.
I told them how Mel likes to tease that she'll never fuck me again because I turned her down too many times.
I told the story in details that made them drool, and the conclusion so carefully woven that their hearts cried out for my abandoned labia.
Then I asked them for a raincheck, seeing as it was 1am and they were heading out to a pool hall first.
Paul asked if I prefer men or women. I told him that I wish I knew, it's become so intimately entwined that at some point gender doesn't matter anymore. Only persona. And heat.
Paul asked if I preferred him or Riz. I refused to answer, playing wise woman, but honestly wondering the answer to that myself.
I think I admire Riz, but want to devour Paul, but I'm not sure what either of those means.
In any case. I was the youngest child there last night, and I left first, amid jeers and sneers, head filled with today, and how overwhelming was the yesterday.
Car. Work. Work. Dreams. Work. Sex. Turning down a threesome. Creativity rewarded with a smile and opportunity to work more and sleep less. Turning down a tag-team of two of the most beautiful people I've encountered lately. For dreams.
Am I growing up, or just haven't the strength to do it all anymore?
And one more question. Does anyone remember who kisses who first? :)
I'll figure it out. But first, I'm off to document the damned code.
Thank you for listening, I'm still percolating the lifetime that happenned in a handful of yesterday.