This is where books get written (really rather boring diary-type entry)

In hurried spurts, in frenzied sprees of 500, 600, 800 words at a time, and then nothing for weeks...
The perfect sentence, buried beneath countless word changes and the occasional weird comma overuse.
This is also where Jimmy hides, bugs bite, people are friendly and warm, and work doesn't suck, though the kitchen is hot as all get out. Seriously.
So far I absolutely adore living up here. Despite the fact that I've already got a flat tire (well, by the time anyone in this timezone reads this, it won't be a flat tire anymore hopefully) and my feet are just COVERED in mosquito and fly bites, I still thoroughly want to be up here. And I love my job. I haven't really gotten to the part where I have to interact with people that aren't my boss or coworkers (or the occasional inebriated patron who decides I'm gonna be their friend), so I haven't quite determined whether I like THAT aspect of the job... But people seem nice. I need to get over my aversion to striking up conversation with people I don't know. It's unpleasant. As is talking to people I don't know.

In other news, I'm still ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY thrilled that I quit BP. I was at the end of my rope with that place. When even the customers start to walk all over you, it's DEFFO time to get the hell out of there.