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What happens when there is so much nothing to do that I go insane.
2004-12-03 - 3:24 p.m.

Feeling: stultified. (yes, I *was* bored enough to double-check the definition on dictionary.com)
Listening to: Tomorrow Shall Be My Dancing Day
Reading/Watching: ...nothing. sigh.

Usually, I'm at work study for an hour, two, maybe three hours at a time. Never more than that.

But Thanksgiving weekend threw off my schedule, and I need to make up some hours, so I am in the office for five hours today.

It's been two, and I have already done every conceivable chore there is to do for this teensy office. There is no copying, filing, or message-taking left, and I have gotten the mail from the mailroom.

I've also checked my e-mail four times and checked my voice mail twice to make sure no one called me, since my cell battery died yet again, and I am without a charger.

There are three hours left, and it's not as if I hate being at work, because I am not technically working. I just. need. something. to do.

Maybe I'll play the recording I have of last night's concert again. Agonizing over mistakes and cheering after pretty moments tends to make the minutes at least crawl rather than ootch on their bellies.

(That's right, ootch. If it's not a word, it should be.)

Stupid me, forgetting to bring a book today.

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A Week of Perfect Nothings - 2010-11-28
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