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Journal of Days
Wednesday, 30 July 2003

Silence is suffocating at times. Time hangs like lead round your neck as you slowly trudge towards the end of the day.
Tick
Minutes feel like hours. Hours feel like eons.
Tick
The hands of the clock move at a snail's pace around the clock's face. No, slower. You wonder how anything can possible go that slow.
Tick
You sigh and try to drum up some enthusiasm. But it's hard when you're in a beige fantasy office where everything is carefully neutral and inoffensive and totally bland and there's yet another task to work on sitting on your desk. A task that's far from exciting.
Tick
Ever notice how tasks can s t e t c h to fill the time alloted. How you can drag them out so that you don't have to find out what the next one is?

Posted by dc2/watergoddess223 at 12:13 PM EDT
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