Ah, work. I took a break from 7 p.m. to 8 p.m., but once I returned, there wasn't anything to do. Thus, I sat in the darn chair for two hours, doing precious little but twiddling my thumbs and making intoxicating conversation.
Well, you'll have to ask my co-workers how intoxicating the conversation truly is. They might say violently otherwise, in profoundly colorful language. I did bring them Krispy Kreme doughnut holes to win favor, but that only put them off for a bit. Soon they'll be after my blood again.
(This is, of course, a great disservice to my fellow workers, most of whom are congenial to a fault. Only a minority eat babies.)
There is a small plastic gecko in front of my keyboard. I've been playing with it on and off, twirling it by its tail. Is this really what the next four decades hold for me? Plastic geckos as I bide my time? I would hope not. At some point I will obviously become a celebrity, ink million-dollar endorsement deals, and live the life of Riley.
Until then, though, it's still the fake lizard. And the studio apartment (now sparkling clean and decorated for the holiday season, I'll have you know). And a diary I've ignored for the past couple of days.
Enough of the rambling.