"how to"s. Possibly the most boring kinds of procedures to write up, the most painful (because no matter how painstaking you are, there is always something to be left out), and right now the most complex, because the new content management system is a cascade server and while it's supposed to be intuitive, the operative words are "supposed to be." Even though I know the identity of my successor, I'm afraid if I don't make things as complete as possible something painful will happen - it did last time I did this job.
So I spent most of the day writing up "how to" documents, with accompanying screenshots, explaining the simplest set of actions. And when my brain went dead I switched to fic. Then back to documentation. Then back to fic. Then back to documentation. The hardest part is yet to come. Woot.
D. & I had a merry time this evening though - went to the story and even though I was totally indecisive and we both have a hard time annoucning our preferences for fear the other one of us doesn't want to buy that kind or that brand, we still manage to get it done.
At the end of the trip, after we pick up halfway decent produce (oh god California, I'm happy to be moving back to your growing crops!), and I make the executive decision we're having shisk-ka-bobs (spelling anyone?) for dinner, I'm standing in the coffee aisle sniffing at the lids of all the coffee dispensers trying to find the least foul, most interesting coffee.
This is a much harder task than you'd think because the last coffee we got from our little market was basically blackened pig swill with a bitter aftertaste. It was, however, Free Trade (which at the time had seemed like a very important decision to make). The problem is it's a bit of a discount market (like Trader Joe's if any of you know those) and so all of their coffee sells for the same price per pound. Know what this indicates about the quality? Yeah, chance in hell of getting something good. But we're saving money for the move and at least it's coffee. D. is suddenly standing beside me helping me sniff, worrying at the fact that we both have this snobby love for hand-roasted beans. But we've got to have some vices right?
- microwave your firm tofu block for 3 minutes
- let it drain on a papertowel for 10 minutes
- cut into squares
- dredge in a ginger-peanut marinade (hey, we were trying to be quick)
- dredge in breadcrumbs (throw a tiny bit of garlic powder into them, but be careful, a lot goes a long way)
- slide onto spears
- cook on grill
AND THE COOL PART WAS THAT IT WORKED! This is my first attempt at tofu cooking, because I'd heard about the microwave trick to get the water out (otherwise it just seemed too much of a pain in the ass to pressure drain it between paper towels for hours... I am not a patient cook). They were tasty, crispy, and soft on the inside. Me and the vegitarian were both pleased.
We haven't heard from the realitor for a couple of weeks - he was going on a family vacation and due back on Saturday, which is fine, but the roofers hadn't received the payments for the work they'd done, Neil had both emailed and called, and for 20 minutes or so the dog was bewildered because I was off in freak-out land. You know, the kind of place where your brain makes up weird scenarios - like the realitor had somehow died, or his mother wanted to pull out of the sale, and somehow not hearing back from them signaled that we weren't going to sell the house at all but instead would be tied to Austin and having to put it back on the market. I even thought "oh my god, what if he's dead and no one is following up on his business stuff?"
Yes, it was apparantly the night for me to quietly freak out. Probably part of the reason why the dog kept looking at me like I was crazy (usually I'm in a great mood and not thinking about anything in particular on our walks).
My thoughts went like this: I wasn't even sure if Neil had gotten a signed offer from her, so I started to wonder what if we weren't in a binding contract? Would it even be a good idea to go to LA this weekend and look for an apartment? What if we had to put the house *back* on the market and start the whole process again? Thank god I'd talked to Maija and she said I could stay with her if we hadn't found a place, because I might need it. Does the realitor even have an alternative telephone number? Do we have the buyer's number anywhere?
Luckily, about half an hour after I got home Neil got an email from the realitor addressing all of the pending items and letting us know he'd had a little medical mishap but was feeling better now. Relief... so that's what that feels like.