Moving

There's a sign at the entrance to the Assembly Hall at CDF, before the final door, that contains the guidelines for frisking yourself after exit. If, for any reason, any part of your body sends the Geiger Counter over 100 counts per minute, you are to immediately call security and report a contaminated person at your location. There is no useful information, like telling you to immediately call a lawyer and arrange to have your will signed, or screaming in panic, or pulling the crash cord, because if it can happen to you, it can happen to anybody. I find the sign funny, because I find the idea of someone calmly calling security and telling them that yes, they are so radioactive that they glow in the dark, and could someone please come out there and shoot them or something?

Anyway, I've been in the Collision Hall to see our detector, I've poked all the appropriate pieces, the computers have been put into boxes and sent to FedEx, my associates have drunk the bottle of beer that's been sitting in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet since the last time, and it's done. It's over. Our operation now says goodbye and moves back to San Diego.

I find this sort of sad, since I was basically out here to see to its disassembly I also feel sort of guilty, but I guess all things end. I just wonder if it's the wrong time.

Oh well. Off to go move stuff out.

God I'm tired.