I have been lax in my writing, intense in life. Is that always the way? To live or to write? Locked in the clamps of time, unable to throw myself free of temporal binds, destined to...

Oh crap!

I have been locked in compulsion, trying to fill my new 60 gigabyte hard drive. 25 gig down, 35 to go! Burning MP3's and copying pictures from all the other machines, trying to centralize and organize, and isn't it fun.

My new computer is fast. It is very very fast.

Today marks my sixth month zappos birthday. Yeah Zappos.

(okay...it isn't Monday now, it is Tuesday)

Yeah Zappos. I wish to recount a story about Zappos, and the sorts of behaviors that occur at the Web's Most Popular Shoe Store. Maybe a couple of stories. Last Thursday was a good and frisky day. Events happening, code being written, life moving forward.

I went into the Customer Service Den in order to check on some bit of code. Something about doing a better job with less work, all because of a bit of superior code (remember: code is good). While waiting for someone to take notice of my presence I tossed my hat at the beach ball stock on a protruding pipe about 12 feet up. On my second toss the beach ball came down. I felt a sense of quiet pride in my cap tossing competence, tossed the ball around a bit, conducted my CS business and went back to work.

A bit later I found myself, again, in need of a CS consult, and so I tossed the ball around. Nick saw me with the ball, and lost no time in his haste to inform on me to Lisa.

It appears that Lisa had put the ball on that pipe, 12 feet from the floor, in a feat of derring and skill. A feat that Nick, so far, has been unable to reproduce, and, if his efforts on this occasion offer any predictive value, a feat which he shall forever remain unable to reproduce.

Lisa stormed into the CS room, outraged, with Tattling Nick on her heels. Nick made pompous predictions about being able to lodge the ball on the pipe in 'two throws,' and was willing to wager cold cash on that boast.

Lisa gave him the ball, and he weaseled on his statement, wanting to take 'a practice shot.' He took shot after shot, missing, often missing the wall and the pipe, and on one memorable occasion almost missing the very floor. After his twentieth throw the ball was returned to the hands of skill, and Lisa sank it after a handful of throws.

Lisa returned, in triumph, to her desk, and I waited to ask my question of CS. I tossed my hat at the ball. Someone squealed to Lisa, and she developed a stern demeanor.

She rose from her desk, and walked to my area. Grabbed my black bag and entered the CS room. She walked to the Window behind Erin.

"That one is locked" offered Erin.

"It's okay." And Lisa unlocked the window, opened the window, and sat on the window ledge with my bag on her lap.

"So, Richard. What is this problemn you have with the ball?"

"uh...I don't have any problem with the ball?" I was unsure, a bit worried about the deteriation in the psycho social environment.

"Good." Lisa said, and went back, put my bag away, and returned to her seat of power.

The other story involved John Farhner and the Water Cooler of Death. I was minding my own business, programming away, sewing new zippers into the fabric of reality, when I heard a challenge.

"Hey Matt, I'll buy you lunch if you lick this."

Matt is no fool, and said no, but I was intriqued. Hey! A challenge! Cool! And I got details on the challenge. The task was to lick the drip tray from the water cooler. The place where extra water drip drip drips. I took the tray off the water cooler, smelled the water, and said "Uh, I don't think so." And then put it back.

I then went over to Matt and said "Yo Matt, we are smarter than Farhner, High Five!"

So I think it possible, unlikely but possible, that I am in the process of developing a small bit of judgement.

Saturday was a good day! We ...