Houston, we have a problem.

I've been shipped off to the Johnson Space Center in Houston, Texas. The restoration company is cleaning up a Saturn V rocket which has been on display—outdoors—for almost thirty years. They've been working on cleaning it up for two years, and are hoping to be done in about three months.

I was originally scheduled to come down, work on-site for a few weeks, and then go back to working out of DC. This job was going to involve a fair amount of travel, but that has changed. Two people left the company, and now the job which is available to me is to be based out of Houston. They would fly me to DC for one weekend every two or three weeks.

I'm probably going to pass on the offer tomorrow when the owner flies down here to check on the rocket's progress. It's a total bummer, because there are some really cool things about this job, but the "Pros" list is getting it's ass kicked by the "Cons" list—particularly because "travel" means "live in a hotel in Houston for three months."

I'll try not to insult any Houstonians by bad-mouthing their city, but suffice to say that tonight, I'm looking forward to a second exciting evening of hotel-room army-man battles. Yesterday I had to stop at the drug store for laundry detergent. I walked through the toy isle, and saw army men. I picked up one pack of fifty in green, and one pack of fifty in orange, and they're locked in bloody combat on the tables which I pushed together. I took a couple of pictures just so y'all could make fun of me! (*achem!* I mean, just so you could all make fun of me.)