I’m sitting in my running car waiting for an appointment who is probably going to blow me off in a jacket and tie because we have a big dealer meeting today. The time commitment is from one this afternoon to ten tonight and its an hour from home. As I thumb type this the drywall guys are hopefully plowing through the ceiling so the house can get back to normal sooner rather than later. As I parked here with my head on a swivel I realized that there is no way I’m posting at eleven when I get home so I’d best word-vomit now. I’ve really got to see someone about a better line of work. Once they get trained chimps talking this position will be eliminated. And I’m not so sure that the talking simians won’t be more affective. (before one of you amateur zoologists corrects my use of simian know that I don’t give a shit I was just trying to stop typing chimp over and over) This is probably just me feeling sorry for myself because I don’t feel challenged in any way. I kind of get the whole going postal thing. trapped in a job that a machine could do better gives you way too much alone with your thoughts time. Add in a big pile of coworkers some that have problems thinking their way out of bed in the morning and you’ve got a recipe for trouble. HEY here’s my appointment.