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fancy new mailbox
Wednesday, September 3 2025
The CEO of the company I work for doesn't really seem to know what to do with me, so he tends to use me as putty to fill in cracks as they appear. One big gap was a big customer with a legacy install in Los Angeles, and I've come up to speed nicely on that installation. Then there was the need for more code review, so I (aided by ChatGPT) started doing that. More recently there was some technical documentation that needed writing, and I did that for a couple days. Today there was a meeting about the reporting system, and that kind of excited me because ripping out the old Crystal Reports crap and replacing it with something I could write in a weekend would greatly improve my feelings about this job. But no, what the meeting ended up being about was how to fix the many Crystal Reports being used by the system in the face of an imminent prolonged vacation to be taken by Julia, the one person on staff remaining who knows anything about Crystal Reports. Since there's no way to replace Crystal Reports at the present time, it looks like I'm going to have to become somewhat proficient at Crystal Reports. As with having to do code review, this doesn't excite me or give me any fondness for the job. But I figure I can muddle along with that like I've muddled along with everything else. And it's possible that exposure to a real commercial reporting system (even one as dated and embarrassing as Crystal Reports) will inform future work I do on my reporting system(s).
Lunch conversation was dominated by talk about football, so I had absolutely nothing to contribute. (I actually take pride in my lack of interest in such things, so it wasn't the least bit embarrassing. Indeed, I would have, had I been asked, owned up to this completely.)
After lunch, the project manager took me to an outside building where certain pieces of equipment are tested, and the one quality assurance person on staff showed me how she tests it. Later she showed me issues with various Crystal Reports produced by this data in her office. It was a lot to take in, but somehow I will assemble this info in my brain and figure out how to proceed. It will probably take a few days for me to even get started though, since the whole thing seems so incredibly dreary from the outset.
On the drive home, I stopped again at MyTown Marketplace, mostly to get tempeh and mushrooms so I could make spaghetti in my preferred style.
Back on Hurley Mountain, it definitely seemed at first that Neville was coming with Charlotte and me on our afternoon walk. But then he dropped out somewhere even before the Chamomile as Charlotte and I executed a narrow loop involving the Gulleys Trail and the top of the escarpment west of the Stick Trail.
My big non-cooking chore for this evening was to install a brand new mailbox to replace the badly dented one we've been using since 2008. (It's been hit repeatedly by snowplows and perhaps other vehicles.) The new mailbox is a chonky rectangular box Gretchen bought online, and it must've been expensive, as the sheet metal used is much thicker than the kind used on our old mailbox (a Home Depot special). It also closes with a very satisfying snap caused by a rare-earth magnet. (It reminds me of the fancy mailbox belonging to Kiefer Sutherland, who lives in the stone house at the bottom of Dug Hill Road; I'd opened it once to put a flier in it about Charlotte's disappearance back when that was happening and had noted at the time that it felt like the kind of mailbox a rich person would have.). This particular replacement, though, didn't result in such a perfect installation. Since the ground is so rocky where our mailbox must be, I re-used the old post, which itself includes an improvised fix that had required me to do some welding. So the new mailbox isn't exactly level and, because the post sits atop a metal rod driven into a crack in the bedrock, the whole thing can easily be made to pivot (which is probably a good thing the next time some asshole smashes into it).
In addition to working at the bookstore, today Gretchen was having various contractors give us estimates for painting and repairs to be done on the outside of our Downs Street mansion. When she got home, we immediately started bickering about Charlotte's barking, which Gretchen thought I had let go on for too long. (Note to self: never tell the truth!) And then somehow we managed to have a fight (a small one) about the thickness of the spaghetti I was cooking. It started when I made the mistake of telling her that I now only cook with thick spaghetti after she expressed dislike for thin spaghetti, and she took offense, saying I was overreacting and it made it so she didn't want to tell me when she finds something I cook somehow less than ideal.
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