Even in the midst of a pandemic, laundry must be done!
I could have done it over the weekend. The rainy, dreary, chilly, gross weekend. Instead, I decided to do more to clean up my office, throwing out boxes of magazines I’d saved that I’d not looked at, not even thought about, in years. I started to organize my comic books. I listened to the Traveling Wilburys (and Wilburys-adjacent material), and watched Roy Orbison: Black & White Night.
Laundry, no. That, I decided, I could do on Monday, while working from home. It would break up the monotony of the day. I didn’t really have a lot to do — just one load, my lights — so I could put it in the wash, work, put in the dryer, work, retrieve and fold, work.
I started my day a little early — about 7:45 — and spent an hour responding to emails. Then I shaved and showered, dressed for the day (blue polo shirt, shorts, Washington Senators baseball cap), and started in on my to-do list for the day, just six items. Though, really, five, since one of the items never materialized.
The main tasks for the day were to do the liquidation lists (the standard list and the Image Comics list) and to write editorial copy for the May catalog.
Before lunch, I worked on the liquidation lists. These I could do remotely without logging into the VPN. The Image Comics list was a trickier than I’d anticipated — the macros I’d written to handle that didn’t work — so I did what I needed to do by hand. (Later I’d discovered that, had I logged into the VPN and done it there, the macros worked just fine. It was an Excel format issue, because Excel is weird.)
After I completed these, my laundry was done, so I went to the complex’s laundry facility to fold my clothes and bring them home. I like folding my laundry in the laundry room; that way, when I get back to my apartment, all I have to do is to put the laundry away. It’s ready to go, to drawers or the closet.
Even though it was mid-morning, the fog was still heavy.
In the mail I had a package — a new USB wireless adapter that would work with both Windows and Linux.
I then spent an hour or so trying to get my computer, in Linux Mint 19.3, to connect to the office VPN, to no avail. I will need to do more research on this.
This is something I found a couple of weeks ago and have been meaning to share.
On September 28, 1918, former president Theodore Roosevelt visited Baltimore and delivered a speech at Oriole Park on Greenmount Avenue to extol the Fourth Liberty Loan (ie., war bonds), and this video shows TR and dignitaries delivering a speech in front of probably 20,000 enthusiastic Baltimoreans.
Edmund Morris’ three volume biography of Roosevelt gives some background, but says nothing specifically of his appearance in Baltimore.:
Roosevelt was loath to divide what was left of his energy between politics and war work, saying that he would tour in the fall only on behalf of Secretary [of the Treasury William G.] McAdoo’s fourth “Liberty Loan” appeal. Extra military funds were urgently needed: the number of soldiers, sailors, and marines in service was now approaching three million, and the latest registration had increased the pool of potential draftees to an almost incredible twenty-four million–one and a half times as much as the total manpower of Britain and France. Roosevelt’s still-smoldering anger toward Woodrow Wilson was fueled by this evidence of how the nation could have armed itself after the sinking of the Lusitania, shortening the war and saving countless lives. Quentin’s included, perhaps.Colonel Roosevelt, page 540
Careful observers will notice that Roosevelt is wearing a mourning band for his son Quentin, who was shot down by German aviators on July 14th.
It’s tempting to think that my great-grandfather, and perhaps his thirteen year-old son, could have been in the crowd; I’m told that TR was his favorite president, and perhaps he took a streetcar up from Federal Hill to see the former president speak that day. He’d have been a week from turning thirty-nine. My grandfather wouldn’t be born for another three years.
This video was an unexpected find — I was looking for pictures of the old wooden ballpark — and didn’t expect to find film footage of Oriole Park, even if it’s of a political rally rather than in-game action. It looks to me that TR is speaking from roughly where the brewing vats for Peabody Heights Brewery, which sits on the site of the old ballpark, are now.
The afternoon was spent writing editorial copy.
I wrote all but three of the articles I needed to, and the only reason those three were not written is that I don’t know what I’m writing about for those. I have product titles for two of the three, but no information beyond that.
My plan is to log in tonight, see if any of the publisher pages have appeared on the FTP server — doubtful, but you never know — and write these, if possible. Otherwise, they will have to wait to be written tomorrow.
Tomorrow, at the office.
Yes, I am planning on going into Diamond’s offices the next three days to work on the order forms. For one thing, I need access to the printers. For another, I don’t trust my remote connection enough for some of the delicate data things I have to do.
I’ve been assured that, yes, the office is open, that a small crew will be there, and I can work unmolested.
I’m looking forward to it.
I can do with some normalcy. And the open road.
I redid my desk at home a little this afternoon.
I added my TARDIS Bluetooth speaker, which I’ve been using while I’m working in the remote desktop — today, I listened to episode four of the BBC World Service’s 13 Minutes to the Moon season 2, about the doomed Apollo 13 mission — and a Civilization III paperweight, which Firaxis sent me when I was an EB Games store manager many moons ago.
This room is not as dark as it appears in photos.
The 700th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Arbroath is next week.
Is there in the archives of any nation a more inspiring national document than this; and are we to believe that the Parliament which, on 6th April 1320, despatched that ringing message to the titular head of Christendom represented a people who twenty-five years before were without any sense of nationality, were devoid of national consciousness, national sentiment, and national cohesion?Evan MacLeod Barron, The Scottish War of Independence (1914), page 482
The BBC Radio 3 program, linked to above, was interesting and entertaining. If you’re unfamiliar with the Declaration of Arbroath — or even if you think you know it — you’ll learn something. I certainly did.
I have not read Barron’s book. I started it, twenty years ago. I bought it at the B. Dalton at Park City Mall in Lancaster, Pennsylvania on what I remember as a rainy day in early 2000. I had a day off from Electronics Boutique, so I drove over to Lancaster just to get out of the house. Maybe I’ll read it this year, in honor of the Arbroath anniversary.
This blog post was written using the Gutenberg editor in the Vivaldi web browser on Linus Mint.