One day and a couple of hours till the end of the week, when I can go to Geek Night at The Laundry and dance to amusingly kitsch music and drink slightly too much.
I want to know when I became that person ... waiting for Friday and my real life to begin ... if you see my soul send it home?
Tensions at the moment between the work I do and the work I want to do. I started writing four weeks ago and the words won't stop ... I love the words ... they roll and swing and sweep and I play and prod and mutter to myself. I wake and have new words .... my dreams roil with silver-bright word-clouds and when I wake I know what I must write.
If it wasn't for the promise of cold hard cash I would leave. I would leave and write words.
But the promise is big, bigger than you would sensibly believe. I could give you figures but you would all hate me. If you knew the bigness of this promise you would stay too. Sell your soul, what's left.
If the promise comes true I will leave and write words.
If the promise comes true, I will buy you all beer.
I promise. And my promise is worth more than their promise.
I promise that too.
I'll buy you all a beer anyway. Do you want one? I do already ... one day and a couple of hours till the end of the week.
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2 comments:
:) I have become that person who starts counting the hours at 8am on Monday morning as well.
So much so that I count Monday, Monday part 2, Monday part 3, Monday part 4, Freedom Day.
Actually Freedom Day is Blue Jean Day.
And I have no promise at the end of it all.
I would probably sell my soul if I could acquire one though :)
~K
aha. i need more of this week and more time. but i don't spend it wisely. so i'll just have to make do.
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