Rear brakes on the van in a few hours, which means taking James to work at 6:45 so we have his car while ours is being done. (We manage okay with one car for Sue and I, but we're not so good with zero cars, at least, not yet. Maybe not ever.)
Spent the weekend in the scorching heat flogging bric-a-brac to passers-by. There's 50% of the cost of the brakes in what I essentially consider donations. (Note: selling used computers at a yard sale seems pointless. Ah, well; I tried, I learned. Now I'm worried I'm stuck with them.)
Since the servers spent the weekend in the front yard, the network is most definitely dead. Three standalone PCs and a laptop. First time I haven't had a full-blown network since I set my first server up a decade ago. That length of time might explain why that particular server is sitting by my desk instead of with the yard sale stuff; the video card has gone awry and now I can either scrap the machine, or put a video card in it to try to sell it. And maybe scrap it anyway.
Folks seem to be interested in our Client Communication Clinics in various places around the country, but recent results haven't inspired confidence. Friday's event was attended by 3, and the profits more or less covered lunch at the sandwich shop. This was better than the previous Friday, though, when 10 people signed up for a free call about my authors' coaching, and precisely zero joined us on the call. I'm used to a certain amount of attrition, but not 100%.
Sometimes I remind me of Michael Badalucco's portrayal of George 'Baby Face' Nelson in the Coen Brothers' O Brother, Where Art Thou?, shooting up the bank and cackling with glee one moment, and a little while later, abandoning the proceeds of his labors to wander off into the dark.