This is really sad, but I have to say it. I like programming. It’s not a 24×7 thrill ride or big, shiny endorphins firing round the clock, but as far as day jobs go, I’m okay with it. There’s something terribly satisfying about being presented with a problem or task, creating a process that didn’t exist before, and then watching it run successfully. Plus there can be a certain elegance to a well-written program.
On the writing front I made another 2000 words of progress on the novel. And again, I’m pretty sure they’re crappy. But at least they’re coming. I’ll spit polish and sand the damn things into shape later. But as long as the words are coming, it’s good.
On the mother-visiting front, Matthew pointed out we need my mother’s husband’s last name (and I assume her last name now) to make their hotel reservations. We appear to have mislaid the wedding announcement and are tearing the place apart looking for it.
It is terribly surreal that I can’t remember my stepfather’s (and probably my mother’s) last name. It’s one of those things I feel I should, I dunno, know. Hell, I’m not sure I have the proper pronunciation of my stepfather’s first name down. Damn it. This is very weird.
(edit: The hotel was okay with us making the reservation without their last name. Whew.)