Wet crappy day.

It rained. A lot. I was soaked, my coverall was drenched, and after a totally NOT work related isse with the boss and a member of his family...don't ask....I was a happy, wet clam to get the hell out of there...and do an errand for the boss, sending money to some guy in Las Vegas.
Fun.
But luckily it took me out in the direction of Albertson's chicken, so all is tolerable. Just let me go home, world, then leave me alone.

Mission accomplished. Home, with chicken, on laptop. Ahhhhh. Brought home new toy I've been after, and the price was right. This is probably as good a point as any for mentioning the danger of being me:
I am a prop replica making, Star Wars stuff-related collecting and building, vacuum-forming maniac. Imagine someone that is obsessed with making things surrounded by materials, tools and lots of open space. Yep, it can be hell. I want to collect everything, make something, build anything at all despite my inability to play mechanic. Details!!!
Being a geek, I want to keep every odd shape and spinning doodad coupled with the male delusion of making it all into something useful, ya know, someday. To say I could build a house with all the random stuff that comes in is NOT an exaggeration. Our main cargo containers(slated for steel specifically) hold around 10,000 pounds. Can you fathom how many lawnmowers, columns, sinks and bathtubs that is? An aspiring filmmaker(points at self once more) could lose his mind just as easily as the rest of the hobbies fighting for dominance over my brain. Every piece of furniture could be part of a set, the containers sets in themselves, and props in every direction. Making sure that the bulk of donated items get into the containers take more control than I can believe.