There is a light at the end of the tunnel

That light might be an oncoming train.  Or it might be the end of the tunnel.  Alternatively it might be one of those little one-car dealy-bobbers with an engineer on it.  Or a medic.  At any rate, the light and I should be intersecting on Monday and ONE WAY OR ANOTHER the last several weeks' frantic journey will be over.

First I have Saturday and Sunday.  Saturday I'm meeting Tara, not very early, and we are going to trailer our horses to somewhere where, we hope, we have a minimal chance of getting shot.  Unlike the environs of the farm, where it is fairly likely due to it being hunting season.  Frankly this makes me very nervous, but the hunters seem to be pretty good and so far no horse has ever been shot there.  That I know of.  And the horses are fairly blasé about gunshots now, so that's good.  When Playboy lived near a skeet range he heard gunshots all day and could not have cared less.  I, on the other hand, get a little jumpy.  I've never been shot but I've been shot *at* and it made an impression on me.  On the psyche part of me.

Anyway we're going somewhere else to ride.  I hope very, very much that nothing exciting happens.  Or that if it does, Pluto keeps his shit together and I keep in contact with the saddle.  Because after the riding I plan to have a nap, and that's harder to do if you're bruised all over.  I figure our most likely suspects for excitement are a) joggers%, b) loose dogs%%, c) bridges%%%, or d) road noise.  The park has big roads on all sides and Pluto isn't really used to a lot of road noise.  I hope he's too busy being in a new place to really focus on the tractor trailers going by at 75 mph.

Then we take the boys back to the farm, and then I go home and nap.

Sunday, my coworkers and I are shutting down the server room and securing everything for travel.  Everything is only being shipped one building away.  Fifteen years ago, we moved most of it by rolling it downhill.  But we have a lot more stuff now.  Also, I'm fifteen years older, and it's all uphill.  So we're using a moving truck.  Also, professional movers. 

Monday morning I guess I'm getting up early so I'm there when the movers arrive.  I won't have much to do on the near end, I hope, but on the far end somebody needs to tell them where to put things.  And then, the fun.  Finding out which machines jiggled something loose in transit, or took their opportunity to mysteriously quit working for no obvious reason.%%%%  Also, which ones I was successfully able to change the IP on before they shut down, and which ones didn't take.  Or DID take but won't talk to the network anyway.

I've moved machines before, and I've moved networks before.  So I've seen a lot of failure modes.  I can only wonder what new problems I will surely encounter.  And hope that my temper holds until the end of the process.%%%%%

% I mean hell, I do that myself.

%% Which will either be terrified of Pluto as the biggest dog they ever SAW, OMG, or potentially growly.  Pluto is not scared of dogs so far.  He has tried to stomp one before.  I think if Pluto stomps a dog it could lead to incivility, so I will try hard to avoid that.

%%%For some reason Pluto hates to cross running water.  Maybe he's a witch.

%%%%You know it happens.  It's the dang server gnomes' fault.

%%%%%I'm sorry, coworkers.  I'm sorry, world.  Somebody is going to get yelled at.  It is inevitable.  If you're all lucky, the one getting yelled at will be the ancient VMS machine.  It's used to it.