Troll’s Hole

Sunday in Sanctuary and I am fat and happy.

I just finished a fine breakfast and am trying out a new keyboard that the Mrs. chose to give to me. Her new computer won’t use this one due to a tragic not-matching plug accident.

I kinda ended up with a new computer as well, a nearly fatally corrupt unit that one of the ungrateful bastards had for a while. I got my little grubbies on it and began stripping useless nonsense from it immediately. The virus protection was wasted and the firewall barely working at all. I am presently doing battle with a Trojan that got in when he used to leave his machine run for months at a time.

Again; You can lead a child to knowledge, but you can’t make him think.

On a better note;

I dragged my doghouse back to sanctuary and am going to be sleeping in my own bed again for a while. The project is (hopefully) drawing to a close and I am going to commute again. After about a year living in the Doghouse I am ready for a toilet that flushes and a shower that is bigger than a footbath.

The asylum that I call a jobsite is worse than ever with fingers pointing in many directions and panic joining the smell of manure in the air. The manure is from the brand spanking new landscaping and the panic is from the general contractor realizing what was actually going on for the past year.

They have an event scheduled for Wednesday and appear to be hopelessly not ready. There is temporary fencing going up to keep the innocent from falling in a hole or tripping on some construction debris that never seems to make the trip to the dumpster. I am finally getting to the point where I am more amused than angry. We have completed all our contract work and are there just to see what things they want changed or improved.

Between the job being close to done and sleeping at home again I might just turn back into a person that the Mrs. might want to spent time with.

To the long decayed persons that once rested in the place where I now am attempting to finish building a building;

I am not the one(s) that you should be mad at. I am just another guy trying to feed his family and get ahead in the corporeal world. I did not intentionally disturb your long sleep and would be somewhere else not disturbing the dead if I had any say in the matter.

Please leave us industrious worker-bee/ field types alone, but please do feel free to torment those that actually run this job and sit in the office trailers. It is entirely their fault. They are the ones that choose to make holes where you are resting. They are the ones that feel that they have to move your bones; not we field people.

After working with these particular office types I envy you your long rest. I am kept awake at night wondering what kind of stupid decision they are going to make and what it will take to fix these changes that they have failed to think through. I run from crisis to crisis caused by their lack of ability and jump through hoops to get the things done that would be finished long ago if they had any organizational skills at all. I am very tired.

I believe that if those particular office people were not here, the building would be done by now and you could all go back to resting as you were before all this hubbub began and they started digging in your bed.

I think that it would be appropriate to put some ectoplasm in their poop holes or force ghostly projections into their overly warm entrails. Covering their desks in some green, bad smelling, other worldly slime would very much deserved. Plugging their toilets or talking through their phones and computers would seem appropriate for what they have done to you.

I understand why you feel that you have to extend physic tendrils of terror up the asses of the people at this site; it’s just that I think you are choosing the wrong people. If you pick those that are actually responsible they will whine and cry far more than those in the field. The people in the field are used to getting the short end of the stick. If you perform physic enemas on the office people they will cry like little girls, while the field people will just roll their eyes and think, “Here we go again, sigh.”

We actually WANT to be somewhere else, while the office people think the longer they are disturbing you the more money they will make. You see, they blame you as the reason they are not done. They claim the ‘weather’ is the cause, but we all know that they are saying that YOU are the reason they are late.

I hope that I can persuade you to let those of us that actually do things get on with the job and confine your torture to those that have their hands on the reins of the job; The Management. That way we can finish much more quickly and you can bestow upon them the punishment that they deserve.

Thank you.