Today's Word: Speck

That tiny piece of biomass on the scientist's clothes as he was packed up out of the country. The jack-booted soldiers would take all his papers and belongings as he fled, so he rubbed the material on his coat, a substance later known as penicillin.

He's Not Dead. He's Resting.

Incredibly busy at work, wrestling with a Windows XP machine that seems to be designed to not allow me to do my job whatsoever. It's an amazing machine and software, a binary system that actively resists your efforts to do something with the equal force you put into it to achieve a goal. All of which causes you to get more infuriated as you trod along, something I think the computer senses through some bleeding-edge biometrics. Given a long enough timeline with XP, I'm sure all this frustration is as bad for my health as, say, smoking a stick of butter. I'm growing convinced it's trying to kill me through stress or confusion. One upshot for Bill Gates is: If you die while using XP, you'll never need to upgrade, which would save Microsoft a lot of time and money. I think Microsoft should promote this: Microsoft Stalemate for Windows. Start something, but never quite finish it.

The next step is for Microsoft to start opening funeral homes to cash in on this strategy.

Also busy (but non-lethally-so) with writing at home. Tonight is the first post-class writing group. I need something to bring something to the table, or I get a hand chopped off.

Did I mention this is a very serious writing group?