And now, for something completely different:

My job sent me to Pennsylvania for a survey of an old building. Basically this real estate agent had a location in an old house converted into an office on a main road in a small town. Basically a two level house with an attic converted to more offices, and an old garage out back renovated into still more offices. I'm surprised there weren't desks set up in the basement (insert "Office Space" reference here). It was a large house, but nowhere near large enough to house the 70 workstations or so that were set up in there.

When I get there, this lady that I was supposed to meet thought I was going to do a "Trading Places" type miracle right in front of her eyes. I hope she wasn't too disappointed that I was only there to measure the place. The real fun (?) happens back at the office.

Anyhow, on the way back I swung by my parent's house. I saw a my old neighbor and a few of his friends hanging around. They had formed a reggae cover band, and since they didn't have a drummer handy, I was somehow volunteered to play.

I have not played drums in years, and even when I did play I wasn't good. I was more of a guitar player. But anyhow, after one or two songs and one or two beers the feel of the drums came back to me. So I went from being a terrible drummer to a really crappy one.

This concludes the test of the Emergency Bullshit System. You may now return to your regularly scheduled programming.