To get oneself into a hollow

Was jumped on by cats all night. I'm housesitting for my uncle, who is in New York visiting his girlfriend and possibly planning a move. (As with all Uncle Rex endeavors, the move has been confirmed as definite several times and also cancelled, bemoaned, and recognized as impossible and/or foolhardy. I am mainly in favor.) At this point, I am tired enough that things in my peripheral vision pulse continually -- bright dark bright dark bright dark -- so it feels like most of the world has an inadequate refresh rate.

Breakfast burritos at El Jordan, thank God, as I did not have time to pull a lunch together. I have scavenged the vending machine for Nutty Bars and a packet of Sun Chips. Went to the Art Institute before work to watch the Arts Magnet kids digitize documentary footage. I continue to be depressed that the beautiful and broad medium of the documentary is practiced in Dallas to the exclusion of all other film and practiced in a way that is neither broad nor beautiful. Lots of watching people point to things and then explain what they're pointing at.

Was told by DMA staff that everyone loved Thursday; can't tell whether the degree of praise I receive from them is genuine or part of the culture.

About to beta some new voice recognition software, codename Dragon.