6.30.2000

    Tellecommuted today. I thought I had a good solid day of work but one of my client's pooped out on me. I thought I'd have good feedback this morning but none rolled in until around 4. At that point, I was pretty much done for the day.

    My computer at work is hosed. I hosed it. I had a spate of inactivity last week so I took it upon myself to uninstall and install some programs. I ditched the 5.0 copy I had of Photoshop finding that I hadn't used it once since the 5.5 upgrade and I was having problems using plugins and filters that didn't want to share. I ditched the 7.0 version of Illustrator for much the same reason. Illustrator 8.0 rocks but I am humbled before it. I installed Fontographer and Sound Forge. 'Course, the next day Photoshop wouldn't work. I reinstalled. I rebooted. Then Illustrator would't work. Yesterday, Homesite inexplicably stopped running and the little program for transferring files from my digital camera disappeared. If I hadn't been mucking around with things then I would have assumed it was a virus. The Amanda virus.

    I've been thinking alot about freelancing and whether it's something I might want to do again. I think not. Not for awhile at least. When I have downtime at the office I like to go share my misanthropy with others. Here, it's just the cat. He's more of a misanthrope than I am. Bitter cat.

    From my desk I can see the Ross Island Bridge and the Southeast, hillside homes. If I lean over to the right and crane my neck up I can see a bit of the Willamette. If I walk out my front door I can see a view of Mount Hood. It's good.

    We need to get a good chair out front and a few out back. The landlords came by and cut the grass this week. The backyard is such a joke. It's a steep, rolling hill. At the top of it, you're level with the third floor apartment. Most of it is tragically overgrown and unusable. There are two areas of grass which, until this week, were about waist high. Now they're short but with the scrambling ivy the yard looks like it has a mullet.

    Last night was the perfect night. It was the right temperature with a breeze that washed over you like silk. Thom and I had Helen over and grilled pork tenderloins covered in a cantaloupe and pear sauce. It was yummy. Afterwards, we sat outside, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer and telling stories.

    I like to watch the night fall even more than the sun rise.