rowyn

I'm tellin' ya, some days I miss workin' at the muse factory. Oh, yeah, the place was never the same after the angels hit it. And I know, I know, I hated clean up and hose duty, and I complained about it all the time while I was there so I shouldn't complain about being gone.

But with muses, at least you knew where you stood from one day to the next. This whole Emotional Tour guide gig is a freakin' roller coaster ride. And not one of your smooth-as-silk metal ones that goes vip-vip-vip at 90 mph through a couple of loop-de-loops and is done a minute and a half later. No, this job is one of those old woodeen roller coasters that shakes and rattles at every turn and pauses at the top of the curves to convince you it's finally died and is about to drop you on your head onto the tracks 60 feet below. Then, when by some miracle you survive to reach the end of the line after half an eternity, boom, it goes into reverse and it's even worse, until you think its going to jar every vertabrae in your spine loose. At last it comes to a close, and you stagger off to make an appointment with your chiropractor, vowing all the while, "Screw it, I don't care if my friends think I'm a wuss, I'm never getting on that deathtrap again."

Except I obviously keep forgetting my vow each morning 'cause I keep comin' back. Euughh. Soooo ... drained.

I dunno. Ya wanna hear about my day?