|Here is my day...no, week...no, month...
||[Mar. 11th, 2009|04:00 pm]
And it shows no signs of abating. |
Every thing I need to do at work right now involves picking up three or more rocks. Under at least two of the rocks, there will be a rotting corpse that really should be dealt with. Given a proper burial, or at least sprinkle some lime over it.
In the past, it was just one rock out of a dozen, maybe. Now it's two thirds of the rocks. And lately, the problem is, I can't just quietly put the rock back down over the corpse and tink, tink, tink, sneak off quietly.
No, because now they're reanimated corpses. So, I can put that rock back down. I can put that rock down HARD. And those bastards rise up, crawl out from underneath and shamble after me, moaning, calling for brains, dropping limbs and digits in an unsightly manner.
And I have to stop what I'm doing, cut off heads, drive stakes through their hearts, bury them at the crossroads at midnight...
I picked a hell of a time to give up drinking on weeknights.