![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Apr. 8th, 2021 12:16 pmI guess it's going to be one of those days...I dropped the cat food can, dropped the knife I was using on the cat food, and crashed my elbow into the cabinet door putting the dishes away. I managed to hit my funny bone and a couple of other places simultaneously and my whole elbow feels like a bruise, even though there isn't one on it.
I would like some new sheets. But on the other hand, I have two sets that fit the new mattress, and both are perfectly fine, and do I really need more than two sets, since I can only use one at a time anyway? (No, I don't NEED any more. But I miss the cranberry-colored ones that Snip shredded.)
Three hours and two Advil later and my elbow is finally not actively painful, but it still ain't right, and I'm half impressed at how annoyed it is and half annoyed at how it ain't right.
Speaking of annoyed, I got sent another article to edit. I swear I'm going to write out Goethe's three questions and send them to the entire authors list of every article I've been sent in the last four months. They all go like this:
What was the author trying to say? Damned if I know; see #2.
How well did they say it? Damned if I know, the writing is terrible.
Was it worth saying? Damned if I know; see #1 and #2.
And this is before I spend a couple of days forcing the article to make sense and the references to refer to the right things and be formatted correctly and all the tables and figures to show up in the right spots, and submit it, and the journal bounces it because the section headings are in bold instead of in caps, or some other stupid thing like that. I already had one to deal with this week, and got sent another one today, and am nowhere near in the mood to deal with either.
The only saving grace is I get to wrestle with articles at home for now, instead of in the office with everybody tromping past me or coming to ask me for externship letters or wanting me to schedule a meeting.
HARUMPF, however.
In cheerier news, both cats simultaneously thought the little red laser pointer dot Must Die, but were taking turns trying to kill it. This all started because Lily wanted lap space and I couldn't tell what Quirk wanted, but she wanted it very loudly, so I distracted her with the laser pointer.
I would like some new sheets. But on the other hand, I have two sets that fit the new mattress, and both are perfectly fine, and do I really need more than two sets, since I can only use one at a time anyway? (No, I don't NEED any more. But I miss the cranberry-colored ones that Snip shredded.)
Three hours and two Advil later and my elbow is finally not actively painful, but it still ain't right, and I'm half impressed at how annoyed it is and half annoyed at how it ain't right.
Speaking of annoyed, I got sent another article to edit. I swear I'm going to write out Goethe's three questions and send them to the entire authors list of every article I've been sent in the last four months. They all go like this:
What was the author trying to say? Damned if I know; see #2.
How well did they say it? Damned if I know, the writing is terrible.
Was it worth saying? Damned if I know; see #1 and #2.
And this is before I spend a couple of days forcing the article to make sense and the references to refer to the right things and be formatted correctly and all the tables and figures to show up in the right spots, and submit it, and the journal bounces it because the section headings are in bold instead of in caps, or some other stupid thing like that. I already had one to deal with this week, and got sent another one today, and am nowhere near in the mood to deal with either.
The only saving grace is I get to wrestle with articles at home for now, instead of in the office with everybody tromping past me or coming to ask me for externship letters or wanting me to schedule a meeting.
HARUMPF, however.
In cheerier news, both cats simultaneously thought the little red laser pointer dot Must Die, but were taking turns trying to kill it. This all started because Lily wanted lap space and I couldn't tell what Quirk wanted, but she wanted it very loudly, so I distracted her with the laser pointer.
