It has been a week since my last journal entry, and I am excited to scribe again. The trip took longer than expected since the native workers insist on rest every hundred miles. The men collapsed upon reaching the grounds this morning, and are still asleep. Much work must be completed to finish camp, so I must stop writing and place the natives in order. I pray that we are set up and digging in three days.
News of both good and bad.
First the good. Though it took nearly two weeks, I have located our first artifact! A preserved skeleton with ceremonial death mask has been found. The artist on hand is carefully sketching the mask. Loose pieces of gold and diamonds were scattered around the remains, as well as four gold rings.
Though a complete hypothesis must wait, I believe this is evidence of highly intelligent inhabitants. I am very curious to know how and why these ancient people became extinct.
But enough hot breeze, I assume you are curious about the bad news. One of the mules used to transport excavated soil struck me below the belt. My urine is the same deep maroon as the royal crown, and my bladder has been uncontrollable since the accident. A young native has been brought on staff to clean me every quarter hour. I have the greatest difficulty in standing, but I still want to stay by the site. To achieve such a feat, five of the workers carry me and my bed to the dig-site (roughly a mile out of camp) every morning prior to breakfast. Now I can make sure the lazy workers keep up the pace.
Are you concerned that you may be a character trapped in a Tom Waits song? Be smart and learn the warning signs before it's too late. Also, it's too late. It has always been too late.
I'm haunted by a recurring vision of a skeleton flipping me off. To avoid seeing this terrifying image in bumper sticker form, I pay someone with a blank bumper to drive in front of me at all times.
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