The womenfolk have left the building for parts north. So I have the house to myself for the weekend. W00t! The AC has been set on cadaver, and all is well with the world. I'm going to split my time between projects that I've been putting off, and enjoying the solitude. Don't get me wrong, I love spending time with my house mates and all, but having the house to myself is a rare treat, and I'm not going to waste the time sleeping.
The truck-truckity-truck has been given over to the shop, for a new radiator. As I was pretty sure would happen, the patch
failed. The shop, however, did not. This place is so getting my business from now on.
Now, there shall be other things done.
Make war on Comcast.
Clear my desk, and file papers.
Spray the house for bugs, both inside and out. (We don't have bugs, but I really like the idea of making sure it stays that way)
Modify the new door to close automatically, and not wear down the bungee cords.
Devour said pizza.
A bunch of damned paperwork.
Plumb the mysteries of Gordian knot as the apply to Xvid and my DVD collection.
Repair the printer.
See if Frank can be resurrected. (Frank being my ancient and honorable dual xeon box which has died. It's an old server with an on board LSI SCSI controller who's driver's are made by magical gnomes, and can only be obtained by invoking Belial under a blue moon.) The motherboard may have fried, but since it's the only scsi controller in the house, all my data is in limbo until it lives again. What do all those red lights by the RAM slots mean, again?
... and fight the temptation to chase the cats.