preparation for tile laying. Julia says I need a bigger tool. Funny,
that's what all the spam I get everyday says too.
Anyway, I whack the chisel a couple of times.  H-m-m-m-.  Maybe a little 
music would help.  I put on Indexi, an old Yugoslav (Sarajevo) rock 
band.  Not bad.  I hit it again.  Huh, I think I need a little coffee.  
Back again.  Hit it.  Don't I have a cigar stub somewhere?  Yeah.  Good 
smoke.  Hit it again.  Where are Charles, Tim, Eliot, Spencer when i 
REALLY need them?  Hit it.  I text a message to  Almir, telling him how 
much I really enjoy Indexi.  Get a reply, and have to reply to him.  
This is slow work.  A couple of whacks.  Hey, what's that dripping down 
my chest?  Sweat, by god.  Better take it easy.  i think I'll take a 
picture of me working so hard.  Take a drink of water.  Jeeze this is 
boring.  Its getting hotter.  Maybe I should finish tomorrow? 
The things we don't do . . . tile floors, pack suitcases, sell shoes, 
run projects . . . when all we really want to be doing is sailing the 
Mediterranean with a fair breeze at our backs and some wine, olives, 
figs and cheese in the larder . . .
 
2 comments:
i will be there as soon as i reach deliverance.
charles
All God's chillun got shoes . . .
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