As of today, I'm fed up. My helping muscle is broken. I'm tired of being pecked to death with questions. I like to equate questions with chickens.
I'm off to Greece in a few short weeks with a group of choir folk. My history with choirs is patchy at best. Instrumentalists seem amazingly cranky to choir folk. Choir folk seems amazingly cheesy to instrumentalists. I tend to avoid tours in general, with the exception of touring with band-mates (they're just fun).
I've been put in charge of rounding up these choir folk and tossing them on a plane. The tour company takes over once we land (vacation time for me!). I am pulling out hair because of inane questions. I like the word inane since it sounds nicer than stupid. The issues that come up are astounding! I have so little sympathy for pointless dramas that I can't bring myself to email the group when I have answers for their questions. UG. I've been dealing with this for the last year and as the tour gets closer, the more resistance I have about communicating. Inane. What a great word.
An Erinku:
Chocolate chip cookie picture;
my tummy grumbles.
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