yesterday, a microscopic science experiment
Today, I feel like a mine-field disguised as an airstrip. Tomorrow? I'll feel like I'm in queue, single file, and the only one in line. Seventeen days from now? I'll have forgotten how to count. My motivation literally fell through a hole in my neck like so much viscous colloid doing the sizzle sputterdance on my stomach acid. Being sick has its advantages, though - like a guiltless excuse to incubate and nurse my inner lotophagi away from the slow burning sting of work. It was downright celebratory, raisin' my arms in the air and wavin' 'em like they're cilia on a pernicious viral bullet aimed straight at my brain stem.
Now, I have littered empty boxes around the apartment like a scryers table and definitely foresee me filling them with apathy rather than the books and toys and tools that would normally be a prologue to moving. At least the relentless snow does its duty to dampen the sound of my slacking.
Now, I have littered empty boxes around the apartment like a scryers table and definitely foresee me filling them with apathy rather than the books and toys and tools that would normally be a prologue to moving. At least the relentless snow does its duty to dampen the sound of my slacking.