I was sitting doing some coding at work when The Posture Police arrived. The Chair Squad. The Ergonomic Inspectors.

Seriously, a team of three did a sweep through the office and checked every chair to make sure it was working properly, able to be adjusted, and offering the correct back support. Zowee.

It reminds me that my own desk setup at home is not serving me very well. Sure, the two Zed desks look okay, but I’m beginning to suspect they’re not ideal ergonomically. They’re too high (and they’re not adjustable), they have hard edges (apparently a no-no) and the straight edge at the front isn’t ideal. I’ve started getting arm pain when using the computer, something I first noted a few months after the desks arrived (I never did get a graphics tablet, as I mentioned in that post).

I don’t get that kind of pain at work, where both the chair and desk are more a standard corporate design. Nor was it a problem with the old desk.

So though the desks are only about a year old, I am seriously thinking about getting rid of them, in favour of something that’s adjustable, and more comfortable (and thus healthier) to use — even if it’s not as pretty.

And yes, I am considering the (apparently legendary) Ikea Jerker. Mind you, even getting some of those spongy wrist support thingies would probably help.

(No, I’m not going to get one of these Ergopod things.)

I know how much I’ve changed over the years. I’d like to think I’ve matured. My outlook on all sorts of things has altered. My lifestyle is radically different now from when I was 18 (if you think I’m a dag now, you should have seen me then), and has changed several times during that time.

Which is why I’m not keen on tattoos, especially big ones, and particularly on prominent parts of the body. Tattoos (along with vasectomies) are, for all intents and purposes, permanent. Sure, you can spend a bomb (if you have it) and you may be able to get them reversed/removed, but don’t count on it.

So it’s a bit like buying an item clothing that you’ll have to wear for the rest of your life. No matter what the circumstances, no matter how fashions change, no matter how you change. It might be okay if it’s small and/or concealable, but if it’s big, you’ll live with it forever.

Frankly, I’m not brave enough to assume that my sentiments on a big tattoo would be what I’d want displayed in 10, 20, 30 years. My outlook will keep changing, and so will my opinions and my situation.

Other people may be different, of course.

It may be the Christmas party season, but I’ve managed to miss two in the last couple of days.

One on Friday night that I was just too tired to contemplate attending (sorry Tony and Anna).

And another on Saturday, but a bout of Bowen Belly struck me down for the night. Not nice. (Sorry Trish et al).

I went to the dentist on Saturday, and after the ritual inspect, scale, clean and brushing advice (for myself and the kids), I was chatting to him about how things had changed in the last generation. I mentioned that by the time I was 10, I had about 10 fillings, a stark contrast to Isaac (with one) and Jeremy (with none). He said that dental care had improved, as had education about brushing, but that he reckoned the main factor was fluoride in the water; that this more than anything else had led to healthier teeth for children.

Apparently even in this day and age, fluoride in the water is is common in Australia and North America, but not elsewhere. Despite the controversy (including some wacky conspiracy theories such as the view that the Masons are doing it for their own purposes), there seems to be general agreement from medical professionals that it’s a good thing.

Mind you, I have a vague feeling that the dentist I used to see as a kid was rather too keen on expensive cars.

I just know I’m going to be tired later today.

Last night I got to bed about 11:30pm or so… but couldn’t sleep. Maybe a combination of the… well, not exactly heat, but certainly an unexpected lack of cold, and the ideas swimming in my head (which I’ll tell you about another time).

I got up again at about 12:20 for a few minutes to try and quash the brain activity by some temporary computer-generated stimulus, then tried again to sleep.

By 1:15 I was still tossing and turning. Got up again, grabbed an issue of Geek Monthly to read in bed for a few minutes, then hit the pillow again at 1:30. And finally slept.

Inevitably, due to the light at this time of year, I was awake again by 6:45. Well short of the seven hours sleep I normally need to function.

Sometime later today, it’s going to be yawn-O-rama, I just know it.

In fact, when I’ve finished breakfast I might see if my body will agree to trying to get back to sleep for a short while.

I had a haircut the other day. As the locks fell to the floor, it almost seemed like there was more grey than black (very dark brown actually). But maybe that’s because the grey was most visible. At least I hope so.

Yesterday morning I had a blood nose in the shower. Very Psycho, I must say.

My left side is clearly my best. My right side is… well, a bit defective. My right nostril is always the one that gets the blood. Semi-regularly in fact, particularly in high summer or when I’m blowing my nose a lot due to colds.

My right eye doesn’t work. Well, there’s some peripheral vision, but if my left was as bad, I’d be legally blind. Thankfully the left probably has better vision than most people have.

And of course I’m left handed. If you think my handwriting is messy, you should see it from my right hand.

Woo hoo, one of my favourite TV shows is back, after a prolonged absence… The Daily Show (Global edition) on SBS, 10pm tonight (handily timed to start after the West Wing). Damn funny stuff.

Thankfully it’s only a minority of smokers who are obnoxious about their habit, like the two bogan girls in the Campbell Arcade yesterday morning. I wonder what made them think they were allowed to smoke in there? After all, smoking is banned from most inside and undercover locations now.

Maybe we should have smoking zones? In fact given proposals for special rooms for other types of drug use, perhaps we should go down the path of airports, and have smoking rooms.

Speaking of addictions, the chocolate-free week is going, frankly, surprisingly well. Even Jeremy commencing reading Roald Dahl’s “Charlie And The Chocolate Factory” hasn’t got me tucking into the Freddoes.

But I wonder if, like alcoholism, it’s best to stay away from it completely after the week is over, or whether just an occasional sample of chocolate would drag me back into full-blown chocoholism?

PS. Wednesday evening. Uh oh, fundraiser chocolates showed up at work today.