Sometimes I wish I was just a tad less creative.
Take today for instance. Because I came up with a method of creating rather serviceable and professional looking drums, which can be put together by a child using only a pair of scissors from materials that are totally free for the taking, I've spent all this morning walking around town picking up said materials (which are neither light nor compact) and then sludging through the spring snow with said crap over my shoulder and hanging from both arms back to the AST, where I proceeded to cut the carpet rolls into the correct lengths.
This would ideally require a good table saw (cardboard or no, they are hard as hell) or at least a workbench, clamp, and a good sharp saw.
What I wind up using is a beat-up, bent, dull old saw, with two chairs to balance the thing on.
So its no surprise that the back of my left hand is all bandaged up after said old saw jumped right out of the cut and raked it's way across the back of my hand.
Creativity got me injured.
It also drives me nuts that given a few minutes of peace and quiet, I can come up with oodles of blog-entries far more interesting than this, projects I'd love to try (like a group blog site devoted to foreign resident's/immigrant's takes on Icelandic society and politics), stories I'd love to write, snatches of song lyrics or a new melody, it goes on and on my brain it does.
Sadly, the only time I seem to get peace and quiet without being either exhausted or hung right the hell over is on the bus, or walking to work, or something along those lines. Something that precludes me from actually doing anything about my ideas right there and then. Which means I try to store them away for that happy future when I'll have the time and energy to tackle them.
Which means I forget them, or they decay in my over-addled brain and end up being kinda lame.
I want more peace and quiet gentle blogadytes.
So I'm job hunting again.
The life of an Increased Income Facilitator is far to rife with I.C.S.I.E.'s*, bad pay, unbelievable demands, double standards, bureaucratic bullshit, and namby-pamby child psychology that is fast raising a nation of drooling morons and sociopathic uberyuppies.
Anybody know of anything that pays about 160-180.000 ISK a month, where one works fewer than 52 hours a week, and doesn't have to clean up bodily fluids or be assaulted by people you're not allowed to hit back?
If so, please pretty please let me know.
I'll sell out. I'll clip the 'hawk right off. Maybe even buy a suit.
Just get me out of here.
Anyways...screw it, I have to go change the bandage...