(no subject)
Jan. 29th, 2008 03:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jacey
Number one son is in New York and late last night I got an email asking me to print out, bind and post his architectural portfolio for a PhD application he's making to a school in London. Apparently he's done this once and some muppet behind a desk in New York ballsed it up so it never got to where it was going.
Now it's a last ditch attempt to get the damn thing on to the right person's desk by Friday morning.
So this morning, via (yousendit.com) he sent me the file... which was bloody enormous. A 13 page, A3, graphics-heavy, highest quality pdf for printing on A3 photo-paper (which I luckily have). The file is so enormous that it won't load into my printer memory in one go and so the job, machine, printer and all have been crashing like a banger without brakes... many times. Even when I got it past the crashing stage and on to the (very slow) printing it continued to tie up my computer, meaning I've done no real work whatsoever, neither writing nor music agency. A complete (for me) wasted day!. It's now 3.50 and I've been faffing about on this print job for Son since 11 a.m. and the last page has only just come off the machine - beautifully I might add.
So now all I have to do is take it fifteen miles into Wakefield, get it spiral bound, and get back again in time to leave at 6.15 for the pantomime this evening. And then I have to arrange for a courier - DHL probably - to collect it tomorrow afternoon for a next day delivery... hopefully to arrive with half a day to spare.
The whole day has been a ****ing pantomime. Oh no it hasn't. Oh yes it ****ing-well has!
I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. Keep saying it. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. Keep saying it. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son.
Now it's a last ditch attempt to get the damn thing on to the right person's desk by Friday morning.
So this morning, via (yousendit.com) he sent me the file... which was bloody enormous. A 13 page, A3, graphics-heavy, highest quality pdf for printing on A3 photo-paper (which I luckily have). The file is so enormous that it won't load into my printer memory in one go and so the job, machine, printer and all have been crashing like a banger without brakes... many times. Even when I got it past the crashing stage and on to the (very slow) printing it continued to tie up my computer, meaning I've done no real work whatsoever, neither writing nor music agency. A complete (for me) wasted day!. It's now 3.50 and I've been faffing about on this print job for Son since 11 a.m. and the last page has only just come off the machine - beautifully I might add.
So now all I have to do is take it fifteen miles into Wakefield, get it spiral bound, and get back again in time to leave at 6.15 for the pantomime this evening. And then I have to arrange for a courier - DHL probably - to collect it tomorrow afternoon for a next day delivery... hopefully to arrive with half a day to spare.
The whole day has been a ****ing pantomime. Oh no it hasn't. Oh yes it ****ing-well has!
I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. Keep saying it. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. Keep saying it. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son. I love my son.
