I’d carefully rationed my workload for today. As my last day in the office this calendar year, it was always going to be a set of scrag ends tied together with twine. But I’d made sure that this morning would be essential changes to a site meant to go live (with national advertising in the trade press) in the early new year: visual modifications, including smushing two pages together in one without all the stylesheets fighting a messy war in the middle of the screen; and code optimisation to speed the whole process up, cacheing repeated data and labels, that sort of thing. This afternoon, following a client Christmas lunch that might rapidly and disastrously liquefy, I planned to write the documentation. At least that way my typographical errors won’t bring down any of the servers.
As it is, I’ve pretty much finished the coding already—the optimisations sort of fell into my lap—and I don’t want to start on the documentation and leave myself both idle and woozy this afternoon. I could start some of the longer-term projects that I’d intended to leave till after the holiday but I’m worried that everything I do, I’ll forget and have to do undo and redo, either because it doesn’t make sense any more or because circumstances have changed. So I don’t know what to do with myself except surf for Christmas present ideas and eat mince pies. As long as nobody asks me what I’m up to. “Improving office morale by stimulating the Christmas spirit,” I’d say, spraying them with crumbs.