scoopin up the field mice

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This is my day x about 7000. I’m entering statistics for field mice… yup, field mice. You know these things are very important. Important enough that if I weren’t entering the data the professor’s assistant, that makes much more than I, would be entering them. Oh, yeah… he knows what these things mean and why the fuck we are entering hours and hours of data about *dramatic pause* field mice.


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Fortunately I have installed iTunes and am currently (well when I started this thing) listening to the old school punk channel that is likely driving co-workers batty. Maybe they can find the bats and study them. Maybe they can just determine if they are nesting in my brain or merely circling until they deem it safe to set up permanent residence.


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Have you ever noticed when faced with the mundane, like data entry, you tend to put the keystrokes in a pattern that makes a rhythm? You can immediately tell if you’ve screwed up by the sound. Then the bats start comin straight for your freakin head and you know you really fucked it all up because you disturbed their sleep. Maybe Christian Baile will come rescue me…. In that case….


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