Tedium, thy name is officework.
It's nearly June, so the office feels fairly empty. People seem to like their vacations early and extended, here, so I'm pinch-hitting for the EA who's currently off gallivanting somewhere in the Prairies. And things couldn't be duller. Yawn, yawn, yawn.
That makes my working hours very dangerous.
When I'm bored, my thought turns to food. Or the lack thereof. I begin to obsess over calorie counts, masochistically logging in and out of Fitday, wondering whether my mug of coffee was indeed exactly 8oz. Should I include the packet of Equal? How much milk did I use? How long until I have to face lunch? Should I throw it away? Maybe I should buy a Diet Coke…
Boredom is what made me fat in the first place. As pornographic as it may sound, I like to keep my mouth perpetually busy. And I especially enjoy the act of chewing and swallowing. The feeling of the tiny bolus squeezing its way down my esophagus is pleasant, and probably designed to provide some sort of evolutionarily-wrought comfort. Darwin would understand, I'm sure.
Maybe I should take up Pica. Seems like a cheap enough hobby. Though finding a decent restaurant might be a chore.
In short: I'm bored. I need something to take my mind off the guilt of having willingly eaten a dressingless tomato & romaine salad with non-fat ricotta. Help! :P
That makes my working hours very dangerous.
When I'm bored, my thought turns to food. Or the lack thereof. I begin to obsess over calorie counts, masochistically logging in and out of Fitday, wondering whether my mug of coffee was indeed exactly 8oz. Should I include the packet of Equal? How much milk did I use? How long until I have to face lunch? Should I throw it away? Maybe I should buy a Diet Coke…
Boredom is what made me fat in the first place. As pornographic as it may sound, I like to keep my mouth perpetually busy. And I especially enjoy the act of chewing and swallowing. The feeling of the tiny bolus squeezing its way down my esophagus is pleasant, and probably designed to provide some sort of evolutionarily-wrought comfort. Darwin would understand, I'm sure.
Maybe I should take up Pica. Seems like a cheap enough hobby. Though finding a decent restaurant might be a chore.
In short: I'm bored. I need something to take my mind off the guilt of having willingly eaten a dressingless tomato & romaine salad with non-fat ricotta. Help! :P