Valentine’s day was actually quite quiet for the most part. Our company gave us a bag of sweets, mostly those little love-heart ones which say things on them like EMAIL ME and YOU’RE THE BEST and CLOSE MY BUG((Not an actual example, sadly. Maybe we could make some GNOME sweets for next year.)), and chocolate hearts with mottos inside. My team lead was told “Be your own Valentine!” which sounds like a polite way of saying something else.
When we got home, Fin had made an amazing meal for all of us, each with our favourite thing to eat. Some of them had tomatoes and things cut into heart shapes. It must have taken ages.
I also discovered a not terribly obvious problem with GMail. I wrote a script which would tell you who had left you Valentine’s messages on LiveJournal, and it worked by turning on email notification, sending each LJ comment received to a GMail account, and every hour having a cronjob which read the account using IMAP, indexed them all in a Postgres database, and then having a cgi which could display search results. That was all very well, but on Valentine’s day itself, something inside GMail decided that the account was being used for IMAP in some kind of inappropriate way, and shut it down wth the error Lockdown in Sector 4! I disabled the cronjob, but it meant that some people didn’t see their valentine messages for another day or so.
On Friday it was pretty quiet again. I wrote a triolet.
Lines Written on the 15th of February
Today’s just a day
That’s not Valentine.
No roses, no wine.
Today’s just a day
I still want to say
I’m glad that you’re mine.
Today’s just a day
That’s not Valentine.
I also spent far too long trying to remember the visibility rules in GNOME bug 509165.
Link soup:
- Carmen was the star of the whole Internet yesterday for posting her account of working the late shift in a sex shop on Valentine’s Day. It is really funny.
- Santo Fiasco, the Patron Saint of Doomed Relationships
- When I was first dating Fin, she made me a tie-dyed sarong.
- Preacher explaining that the country’s going to hell because the president urinates sitting down. I would think this is a parody, but the same church has all its sermons up. It is the weirdest thing.
- If Death came to Alan Moore.