Browser Blues

A few years ago I went on a journey. A journey to find a new favorite web browser that wasn’t called chrome. I found one. It was… basically… ya know… chrome without actually being chrome. I settled on Vivaldi. I like it. I put it on my MacBook Pro, and my personal Windows desktop box, and my work laptop (just for personal stuff like my personal email and… ya know… this blog) and as soon as it was available I also put it on my iPhone and my iPad.

Yesterday the company I work for updated its list of approved applications and Vivaldi was not on it. Boo. In order to comply with the rules, I had to give it up on that machine. Firefox is on the list though, so I have brought that back for my personal use (while we all use Chrome for work use).

It is fine. No complaints about Firefox here it’s just… not the browser I want to use.

You know, it’s all fine and good and everything is okay and the universe isn’t spiraling down the drain and heading for the sewer. Yeah, that has nothing to do with web browsers it’s just… you know… blah. Boo.

Here’s a couple of pictures of a cat because even though the universe is collapsing into crap, cats are still fuzzy and cute and adorable.

Tough Times

The country is in the sewer thanks to the nazis in charge. The Red Sox have lost four in a row. The Bruins have lost something like 800 in a row.

At least Robin the cat is still adorable.

Another Day

Another day, another cat pic.

Or, another day, another meeting.

I had five meetings on my calendar for today. One was canceled. What a relief. It’s going to be a busy day.

Crash

It has been a long time since I’ve had a blood sugar crash. It happened tonight. Things are slowly getting back to normal. Here’s a cat photo I forgot to post earlier. It should tide me over while I wait for the shakes to stop. Any minute now.

Privacy

There is an episode of How I Met Your Mother where Lily thinks Marshall (her husband) is cheating because she finds credit card receipts showing that he is checking into hotels every work day. Turns out the truth is that he’s checking into hotels so that he can take a shit in private. He’s too embarrassed to take care of business at the office and he can’t just go home and do it, so he goes to hotels.

I want to state publicly that the writer of that episode is a genius. Never has there been a work of fiction that reflected real life as perfectly as this. It may be the most relatable 22 minutes of television ever made. Absolute genius.

In closing, here are a couple of sleeping cat pics I took last night.