Tonight, I'm supposed to have my piano lesson, but this week I'm on something called "Pager Duty" which basically means I am a slave who is required to stay near my laptop and a high-speed internet connection at all times. It also means that I don't get a lot of sleep at night because my pager is nice enough to alert me every time one of our gazillion servers gets a little gassy and needs to be burped. I haven't had time to practice my sad chops at all this week, so I'm skipping it. I'd probably just end up rebooting servers from the piano bench all night anyway.
The lessons are going slowly, but I don't have brick hands any more. Now I just have these completely uncontrollable and apparently boneless protuberances between my middle finger and my pinky that don't seem to be connected to anything resembling my brain. In fact, even though on the outside they look like fingers, they are not. They are imposters, and I think they may actually be chinese spies. They just sit there and take detailed notes as they watch all my other fingers do stuff. They are shitty spies though because you'd think they'd want to blend in more so their cover doesn't get blown, but who knows. I don't speak chinese finger.
Oh, and if I haven't mentioned enough about pager duty sucking, here's another thing -- when it's your turn, it goes from Monday morning to Monday morning. Included in that stretch of time, for those of you who may not be awake yet, is the entire weekend. Also you might be surprised to learn that it's generally frowned upon to be intoxicated during potential crisis calls. You put those two things together and it means that right around 11pm on Saturday night, you almost hope your pager goes off so you don't feel even more cheated.
In other news, the pot-hole infested dirt road that leads to my piano teacher's house caused me to bottom out my car, and now something is effed up underneath. Whatever it is, it's making horrible sounds, and I know it can't be good. I haven't looked yet, but I am pretty sure I have been dragging this around under my car all week:
OK, I gotta go, my pager is going off and I think that means the tamagotchi needs to be fed or some shit.