www.leefur.com

So I guess the cornerstone of the blog is the mind-numbingly uninteresting minutia of one's day-to-day existence. And I haven't done a good job of driving you to eye-gouging boredom with this yet. So allow me just this brief answer to "So, what are you up to?"

I'm in a hotel (the Hilton Oakland Airport, namely; and I haven't seen the friendly chap on that page) that is literally across the street from the Oakland Airport (or, namely, the car rentals for the airport). Truly a fascinating landscape. You know: run-down shops; flat, run-down hangar expanses; a complete lack of decent restaurants (I've eaten at Subway more than anywhere else; and how much do I like Subway? Anybody? Bueller?), etc. When I do go into the office, it's a 10 minute drive wrapping around the pastoral sights of the outer rim of the airport (adminstration buildings, mostly), past a golf course laden with people doing one of about ten million things I'd rather be doing, and then into a horrifyingly depressing industrial park, until I find the completely indistinguishable building that houses the sullen gray office to which I report. Then it's into an office about 7 feet wide and 10 feet deep with seven people in it. Yeah, do me a favor and picture that in your head. I'll pause for effect ... . We don't have enough chairs, or internet connections, or even shoulder space, if everyone shows up. Glorious.

But luckily (?) I've been working out of my hotel room for the past day, and the rest of today. I'm interviewing managers in the particular company we're working with to get more information about a project that I completely don't understand. So when they ask a question, I say something smart like "That is an excellent question. Let me capture that and follow up with you later." Then I die a little.

So hopefully by the end of today, with two solid days spent in one room, I'll be completely insane and welcoming the drive to the pale gray office (to be fair, I've left for two meals - in another building in the hotel).

And if I get one more email notification for another "Valentine's Day Sale", or "Get Your Sweetheart That Which Matters Most", or anything of the like ... I'll ... well ... I'll sit here and die a little more.

But on the whole, I'm psyched; in three days, I pick up the keys to my 292-feet-from-the-ocean pad. Yee-haw!