Time waster

I am worried. My blog is no longer thrilling (was it ever?). Instead, it may be worth less than a shilling. Sorry, I just wanted to rhyme. I am still in Guyana, working, six night's a week, proofreading, words, many many words. Oh man, it is sending me potty and partially blind. Worse yet, the work is sporadic, so this means I get itchy fingers. Which means I constantly check messenger. There's no one there as there's a time difference. And I send emails. Many emails. I've never written so many emails in my life. I am worried that as I send so many, certain people won't reply. Especially after my dream last night. Which I can't go into, as I am a little ashamed. Oh well, they have been sent. What can I do? What did I expect? The content is not even as bad as I am insinuating, but as I have nothing to do, I will procrastinate. I like that word, procrastinate, and I like this new style of writing. Short, sharp sentences.

That's enough about work. I went to a visit a man today. Not just any man, but a steel pan player extraordinaire. Man, this dude was amazing. And deep. I start on Monday as part of my little Guyanese culture fest. His garden is packed with plants. His garage is packed with awards. And his house is packed with dogs. I am going to be visiting him three days a week. So by the end of the month, or however long I last, I will be able to start my own band. Excitement ensues and boredom engulfs. So I will go.

The sign off?
Give me some work!