[Today was just a day fading into another]
I'm so frustrated with work. I cannot pin down the esoteric nature of the system we use. It seems like the only people who really understand it are the people who have worked there for 13 years, and even they admit that it's sometimes screwy. Just trying to lay out a simple stand-alone photo, I had to run to the bathroom and weep for a good five minutes because it would not work. Really, all it should take is dragging a photo box and a text box and typing, or better yet, pulling the stand-alone template from the library. But I have to create a new Word document, and type some code that looks like this, I think (there are extra spaces between the carats because otherwise they disappear when I publish the blog; also, the format merge is ctrl+m on our computers, but that doesn't work here in Blogger):

< /18d/3 >Overline goes here[
(format merge)
< /full/3/tx >AP(format merge)Cutline goes here.[
(format merge)

...and then transpose it onto the page.

But I have to do something special to get the AP part to post separately from the cutline, which is what keeps tripping me up. Also, stand-alone cutlines have to be placed like stories and not like cutlines, so they have to be composed, sent to the copy desk, and not placed directly on the page. It's insane. If I have to do a stand-alone today, I may not make it.

Is anyone besides me (and some writers at Salon) tired of the Reagan hullabaloo by now? Does every dead president get a whole week of funeral services? I'll have to pay close attention when the next one goes and see if he gets the same treatment.

I'd like to go swimming but my swimsuit has dry rotted and there's some creepy kid sitting out by the pool. I don't want him to be my audience.

The Six Feet Under season premier is Sunday. I'm excited because I'm going to get to see it at Amber's! Woo!