Picking up where I left off with one of the worst weeks in recent memory, revolving mainly around the continual success of my Metro to get me to work followed by its continual failure to get me back home. There's still something wrong with the alternator belt, which I'll have to work out sometime tomorrow between five and six in the morning. It'd be smart to figure it out now, but I'm sleepy.
This, paired up with my work situation, in which I'm "monitoring" construction activity to guard against violation of pristine archaeological resources. A worthwhile endeavor, although the construction is taking place in an area that's been previously churned up numerous times before. Which means I'm watching men dig holes for eight (and this week 10!) hours a day. It's actually a pretty good opportunity to scribble some chapters in my Nanowrimo work, but writing fiction while standing or while perched on an I-beam is oddly uninspiring.
Place of my birth, I'm a-comin'.
