I spend a fair amount of time outside the main building where I work, walking from point A to point B and then back again. My main route takes me up a steep concrete ramp about forty feet in length.
The ramp isn’t cleared of snow when the rest of the plant is cleaned up because it is mainly used by large equipment. It just so happens to be a handy short cut for me as well, but the-powers-that-be are unlikely to clear snow from an area just because one single solitary lone person uses it (heck, I can’t even get the stairs to my office cleared properly).
Today the temperature has been very mild. The snow is beating a hasty retreat in the face of the relative warmth, and the parking lot is absolutely ice-free now. The ramp, however, is another matter. The wheels of heavy equipment have compressed the snow to ice, and the melt has created small pools of water that keep the face of the ice as slick as oil on glass.
I guess you can see where this is leading.
I was lucky. My left arm has a knot in it about the size of an egg, and it may turn pretty shades of black, blue, green and yellow in a very imminent future. The elbow works though, and any potential witnesses all act as if they’ve seen nothing. Some days you can’t ask for more than that.
I’m starting to pull things together for the symposium I’ll be attending in North Carolina Thursday through Saturday. As is always the case, I was enthusiastic about the symposium when signing up for it, and as the date grows nearer I grow less excited by the prospect of having to pack, fly, stay in a strange place and deal with strange people, only to pack everything up again to fly back home in three days. I also mourn the loss of a weekend day, although the wet lab (the main reason I wished to attend this) is on Saturday, and should be the most useful thing to me.
I’ll need to pack coveralls and remember to bring my own gloves and masks, since they’ll be unlikely to have gloves that fit my hands snuggly, and probably won’t have respirators available at all. I’ve wondered if I should have warned the organizers that I’m immunosuppressed, but I really can’t think of any reason they’d need to know.
I’m going to have to remember to pack a couple of thick plastic trash bags, in case my coveralls need to be quarantined for the trip back home.
I watched the first installment of Battlestar Galactica last night. Frankly, I liked it far better than I expected to. I may even tune into the second episode tonight, though I’m doomed to not being able to see all of it because of my impending trip. Some of the changes were basic, and unexpected, but so far it all hangs together far better than the original series did.
Purists are going to be annoyed that Starbuck has had a sex change and they aren’t going to like the new Baltar at all. I myself question the new character “Six” that they introduced (far too much like Seven-of-Nine, if you ask me), but my complaints so far are minor, and I’m hooked enough on the story line that I’m trying to figure out where they’re headed with a few of the subplots.
Nine days until Return of the King. And then, only a few days after that, The Socialist will make his solitary way westward to a California Christmas. I’m hoping Dr. Nineteen Cats will want to get together for New Year’s Eve again this year. Christmas will be with my sisters. It looks like there will be plenty of quality time with the cats coming up.