God given unpleasantness

Red can of Pringle's in my desk makes way of pencil can, although it carries stuff wich ended up there without me having no idea how.

Zoot and Lisa jam endlessly. They take turns. She plays an impossible (for her age and size) baritone and he blows his remaining brain cells into a tenor-sized alto sax. They change chords. They avoid 20 minutes-long solos. They abhore Jarry Garcia's party. And, boy, they groove.

Mindless typing just before working hours. The ennui downs on me. It's gonna be long 'til I finally get outta here. I'll make my day worth, for what I care. I'll make your life harder, for all it's worth.

Ain't I a sport?