![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Not quite there...
Jan. 16th, 2012 07:25 pmIt being MLK Day, and all, I wasn't really expecting much work to come in over the wire, but some did, nevertheless.
Among the files that arrived was an edited version of something I had translated last year, which was provided as a helpful reference for translating the new document. Just out of curiosity, I ran a comparison between my original submission and the edited document, and found no significant deltas, which helped keep today's mood on an even keel.
A bunch of flashing lights showed up at our neighbor's house just short of midnight last night. A convoy of at least two fire vehicles, a police car, and a fourth vehicle took possession of the adjacent driveway, and I noticed a second police car making slow passes along the drive that runs past the back side of our properties. The likely explanation for such a response, I reasoned, was either (a) an intruder, or (b) the alarm system suffering a hiccup, since there was certainly no fire.
Apropos of which, I am reminded of an incident that occurred not long after my stepdad died, when Galina and I had come East to visit the house. While doing some vacuuming, Galina ran across a rather strange device behind my parents' bed. It was some kind of pushbutton attached to the end of a wire that disappeared into the floor. After pressing it a couple of times, she called out to me to ask me what it might be.
The answer to her question came in the form of a ringing telephone. She had inadvertently pressed the "panic button" attached to the alarm system, and since my stepdad had never shared the "all clear" passphrase with me, we were shortly knee-deep in police. The story had a happy ending, though. I was able to demonstrate our legitimate presence in the house, and the police soon left.
Anyway, last night's respondents milled around for about a half hour—I guessing nobody was home—after which the vehicles pulled out and left the scene in a symphony of diesel sounds. Shiloh spent the entire time with her nose pressed to the window, growling softly at the proceedings and the players, although I think she really was enjoying the show.
I caught a glimpse of the neighbor earlier today, but by the time I meandered out the door, she had gone inside, and I didn't feel it was appropriate to go over just to ask what had happened.
* * * Trying out Wubi, just for laughs.
Cheers...
Among the files that arrived was an edited version of something I had translated last year, which was provided as a helpful reference for translating the new document. Just out of curiosity, I ran a comparison between my original submission and the edited document, and found no significant deltas, which helped keep today's mood on an even keel.
A bunch of flashing lights showed up at our neighbor's house just short of midnight last night. A convoy of at least two fire vehicles, a police car, and a fourth vehicle took possession of the adjacent driveway, and I noticed a second police car making slow passes along the drive that runs past the back side of our properties. The likely explanation for such a response, I reasoned, was either (a) an intruder, or (b) the alarm system suffering a hiccup, since there was certainly no fire.
Apropos of which, I am reminded of an incident that occurred not long after my stepdad died, when Galina and I had come East to visit the house. While doing some vacuuming, Galina ran across a rather strange device behind my parents' bed. It was some kind of pushbutton attached to the end of a wire that disappeared into the floor. After pressing it a couple of times, she called out to me to ask me what it might be.
The answer to her question came in the form of a ringing telephone. She had inadvertently pressed the "panic button" attached to the alarm system, and since my stepdad had never shared the "all clear" passphrase with me, we were shortly knee-deep in police. The story had a happy ending, though. I was able to demonstrate our legitimate presence in the house, and the police soon left.
Anyway, last night's respondents milled around for about a half hour—I guessing nobody was home—after which the vehicles pulled out and left the scene in a symphony of diesel sounds. Shiloh spent the entire time with her nose pressed to the window, growling softly at the proceedings and the players, although I think she really was enjoying the show.
I caught a glimpse of the neighbor earlier today, but by the time I meandered out the door, she had gone inside, and I didn't feel it was appropriate to go over just to ask what had happened.
Cheers...
