Miss my scratch pads? Look what’s back. It saves me time, and also doesn’t terrify my gentle readers by presenting them with torrents of posts.
I’ve begun transferring the gig recordings to the computer in order to pass them along to Scott, who will perform the long task of separating them into tracks and converting them to mp3s. I’ve been dreading this because I was terrified that the recordings didn’t take. Fortunately all three Minidiscs are fine, and everyone’s set has been preserved for posterity. Remember, these are for the bands’ use as learning tools, not public consumption, and so I must dash your hopes for copies, dear readers. Too many rights issues about recording and distributing other peoples’ music without permission.
So here I am, back with the dictionary, doing another task for another purpose. There seems to have been some sort of issue that I wasn’t informed about over the past few days, as I’ve received a new version with fixes, but no idea of why they were needed. I’m just a subcontractor, and got things where they needed to be by when I was told that they were required (one in the nick of time according to the deadline I was given, but apparently that was too late as well, from what I can infer now). If no one checked my work until the last minute, assuming everything was okay, or didn’t check until after it was due, that’s beyond my control.
I was really looking forward to relaxing today, letting all the the ongoing/on hold writing I’ve been recently thinking about again brew in the back of my brain as I vegged and had a day off, but apparently that’s not going to happen for another week or two now.
Ugh. Finding small things I missed in my many editing passes. Too late to do anything about it now.
Right. Now it’s all coming back to me, how I couldn’t change things to make them clearer or more precise. Argh. Some of these are atrocious, and there’s nothing I could or can do. Right.
When did Laura Secord chocolates become so tasteless, and of such an unappetising texture? Ew. They’re overprocessed. Gods, I hope the truffles are better, because I bought them as opening/closing night gifts for the rest of the band. (Some theatre customs you just can’t kick, and really, why would I want to abandon such a lovely custom in which I give things to people as a thanks for sharing time and energy, and to spoil them a little?)
I’d forgotten how hard it is to work at home. I’ve done more cleaning today than I’ve done in weeks, in order to step away from the computer and clear my head. I remembered today that I had Magic Erasers under the sink, and scrubbed down all the walls that have been recently defying my damp cloth. I also cleaned mirrors, and a few windows.
Anyway: two down, seventeen to go tomorrow and Thursday.
Just preparing to shut down and there are emergency emails. Terrific. So much for having an hour to myself tonight and getting to bed early.
Erm… the fire they want put out doesn’t seem to exist. I can’t find the words they need replaced in the version of the file I have anywhere.
Crossed wires, and formulas not accurately adding things up. Sigh. Clarification… except now things don’t match in a different way. I’m working in a parallel file for now, and flagging my edits.
I didn’t realise how much I needed and wanted two days to do absolutely nothing until I couldn’t do it.
A new version of the file received, and the work I was piling into a new sheet gets transferred quickly and efficiently. (Bonus: I can fix a handful of the little things I caught in passing this afternoon!)
Done? I’ve asked it to be checked at the other end, but as far as I can tell I’ve responded to the emergency requests within two hours, including (and despite) technical issues. *pats self on back*