Thursday Schmursday. I'm Holding Out for the Weekend.

Today is blah.

Just blah and a little bah-humbug.

I'm not entirely sure why. Lack of sufficient sleep is probably a contributing factor. The emotional stress of the last couple of weeks is another. The glum weather doesn't help.

At least it hasn't snowed yet. As I drove in to work this morning, I listened to three different radio stations deliver their gloomy prediction of chilly temperatures with mixed rain and snow. The sun is gleaming sullenly through the clouds right now, and there is no evidence of precipitation on the ground, frozen or otherwise. It is, however, quite cold, and as the idiots people who are in charge of the building temperature are rumored to do so from a more southerly state (Yes, really, we don't control it locally. Don't ask me why. I prefer to do things with some form of logic), our rooms still have drafts of chilled air wafting through. This may also be part of the district's obsessive cuts in energy usage. Now that I think about it, that's probably the case.

Did you know that several years back they created a new district-level administrative position solely for the purpose of monitoring and reducing district energy usage? The Energy Nazi (as we call her, though if we were to follow government trends we should probably use the more PC *ha!* term Czar) seems to justify her generous wage through the frequent use of emails and notes reminding us to turn off our electronics and lights at the end of the day. Occasionally there are mysterious raids in afterhours that result in adorable color-printed reminders on our desks and tables that we really need to turn off that TV or unplug the DVD player or (before we switched to laptops) turn off the monitors. Then we get the email that goes to the full staff listing every room that had some electronic gadget or light left on, and we can, if we wish, figure out who the culprits are and arrange for some tar and feathers or a tasteful scarlet letter.

W is popular, for Wanton or Waster or Wastrel or Wimp or the ever-popular Wangdoodle, which can mean whatever you really want it to mean.

I am, of course, perfect and never ever get caught in my wattage wastage (ooh! more Ws! with alliteration!). Having a laptop does help, since I always take it home with me. I then become obsessive about making sure I know where it is, because I am essentially carrying around $1000 that is Not Mine. I can just picture the delightful conversation that would result from damaging or losing it.

And no, I'm not repeating it here because I think there might be some non-family-friendly words used. I'm not sure on which side. I'm sure your own imaginations can come up with something fitting.

Not that I'm fond of my laptop at the moment, as it has been less than cooperative for the last few days. Anything Windows related, particularly web access, has been slow and has crashed frequently. It isn't from leaving the computer on all the time either (So there, DraftQueen!) because I shut it down at the end of every day before I go home and, if I use it at home, again before putting it away for the early morning night.

Today it just flipped out and started swearing at me in the form of rapidly flashing windows and pop-ups from Windows Command, so I backed away slowly and called our tech woman, who is a living saint and a miracle worker. Though I suppose those two probably go hand-in-hand. She arrived promptly with her Tech Tot, as I think of the small-statured former student who is her aide. I suppose he gets paid, but I'm not sure in what, as I don't believe they budget for a tech assistant. She discovered that the district's anti-virus program was not on my computer *ahem* and that I most likely had a virus/trojan/STD running rampant through its silicon veins. She waved a few magic wands or whatever it is these geniuses do and within ten minutes I was good to go.

I hope.

There's still plenty of time left in this day for things to go Horribly Wrong.

I'm an optimist that way.

I am, however, wearing some kickin' boots because it's BOOT WEATHER, YO! and you don't seriously think my footwear fabulousness ends with sandals and pumps, do you?

You're welcome. (Wipe the drool off your faces, girls. It might fry the keyboard.)