Like a bad cocktail party

The odds of there being anything good to talk about coming out of this next project are very slim indeed. This project is (before I left it) is one of the reasons my posts declined dramatically in number. It's only a 40-hour project (and they'll let you do it in four days, which is the only plus, as it cuts commuting costs by 20 percent -- and they said lawyers can't do math) so there's plenty of time to blog, but it is a small, boring group, at the firm but tucked away from everything with nothing going on. It's like trying to get interesting posts out of a quilting bee. Although, never having been to one, for all I know there's all kinds of scandal and mischief at those things. Mostly, though, you just sit, click and listen to people chew. I don't think contract attorneys ever stop eating. Probably to kill the boredom. Truthfully, it's not that everyone is always eating, it's that someone always is. So you sit there is dead silence except for the clicking and some fucker chewing on rocks, because nobody ever eats anything quiet. Sounds like the fucking Germans marching through Poland. Oddly enough, I never really thought much about the sound of chewing until I found myself in Temp Town. Thank God for headphones.