Even the Simplest Outings Are Fraught With Danger

Sigyn and I have taken a break from the continuous eating that goes on in the human female’s mother’s house and decided to get a little exercise by walking to the park and seeing if there’s anything fun to do there.

Odin’s eyepatch!  I’m very glad I have accompanied Sigyn, as already, before even reaching the park, we have encountered a vicious, snarling pit bull dog!  Well, all right, it was leashed and very friendly and Sigyn can charm almost any beast, but still!  It might have gone badly.

The human female used to play in this park decades ago, back when she was still young and nimble.  I believe the playground equipment has been changed since then.  The merry-go-round is gone–which is good, because the injury rates for small people flying off of those is horrendous.

There are still swings, however.  All sorts of things can go wrong with swings!  Fingers can get tangled in chains.  Jumping off can lead to crash landings.  Or, if you’re as clumsy as the human female, you can have one of the heavy rubber seats smack you in the nose, leading to blood everywhere.

No, it’s much safer just to sit.


Sigyn wants to try the slide.  I have my reservations, but I can deny my sweetie nothing.  One can ascend via ladder or by scaling this rock wall.


Sigyn insists on doing it herself and has refused my help.  I have one eye on her struggles and one eye on the rest of the park, scanning for further marauding canines or overzealous tots.

We have succeeded in reaching the top of the slide.  Are you sure you want to do this, my love?  It is a long way down!


Seriously.  And look at those scuff and stain marks?  Are you sure they’re all from shoes?


Here we go!  Wheeeeeee!



That certainly did not go as planned.  Are you all right, my love? Good thing mulch is soft.

Let us sit here on this bench and catch our breath a bit.


There isn’t much inherently unsafe about a bench–at least this time of year.  In the summer a metal bench can become a griddle in no time at all.

After a bit more walking around, we have decided to walk home.  Sigyn is using a bit of folklore magic to ensure the trip is completed safely.



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A Tale of Pipettes, Part I: Getting Them Here is Half the Fun

Quite a number of the laboratory exercises that the human female and her staff have to prep and support employ very Precise Scientific Devices known as micro-pipettes. These are capable of measuring out infinitesimal aliquots with great accuracy.

Image result for micropipette

That’s the theory anyway.  In practice, the students forget to use them with the disposable tips, adjust the volume to ten or twenty times the required amount, and hit the tip discard plunger instead of the uptake/dispense button as often as not.

Recently, the Powers That Be have decided that these teaching lab pipettes are a disgrace, a blemish, a true PR nightmare for the Department.  An edict was issued that they be replaced, one and all, and one of the professors who is in the progress of overhauling all of the lab lessons ordered one hundred sets, each with three pipettes of varying sizes.

Folks, that is a LOT of pipettes.  They were quite eagerly awaited.  I mean, who, faced with the task of checking the calibration on a whole floor full of pipettes, hasn’t fantasized about chucking them all out the window and starting afresh.

Some of them arrived.  Some of them didn’t.  Unrepentant Package Squashers insisted that the missing TWO PALLETS had been signed for.  But signed for where?  And by whom?

Some diligent phone calling by the ordering professor eventually turned them up.  In the Biggish City to the West.  Yep, delivered to the wrong university entirely.  After some argling and bargling, Unrpentant Package Squashers deigned to pick them up and to deliver them to Central Receiving on this campus.

Then it was just a matter of getting them here.  The human female suggested that the fine folks at Central Receiving be enlisted to deliver them (as the CR folks have proven themselves prompt and dutiful in the delivery of dead cats, but the ordering professor wished UPS to make good their delivery or refund the shipping fee.

The pallets were coming!  They didn’t come.  A date was fixed!  And discarded.  They were coming on Friday!  No, Monday.  No, Tuesday!  Finally, an independent moving company was hired to bring them.  A company that had– it must be mentioned–just the week before dropped an expensive and fragile instrument off a delivery truck no fewer than three times between Building A and Building B on the campus.  Moreover, they propped the mangled package up in hopes that no one would notice the damage.

People noticed.

So here we are today, awaiting the two pallets from the movers. The humans are hopeful, if possessed of more than a little trepidation.  They know not that I slipped said movers a little tip to deliver the goods in an… amusing condition.  I can hardly wait to see in what condition they arrive!

Oooo!  Here they come!  Two pallets, a total of thirty-nine boxes.  Most of them look pretty good.

pipette-box smash4

Others, not so much.

pipette-box smash2

Ehehehe!  That one’s good and crumply!

pipette-box smash3

Yikes! Ehehehehe!

No, wait, this one’s my favorite:

pipette-box smash1

I have a feeling that the un-boxing is going to be interesting indeed…

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