Bored. Again.

I’ve been bored before. I’ve sat here, at this desk, attempting to waste time for the last few minutes of the day, but this takes the piss.

It’s almost 3pm, and I have nothing to do. I’ve had nothing to do since 9 o’clock this morning, and it’s slowly driving me crazy.

I’ve played games. I’ve taken quizzes. I’ve had a facebook conversation with an old friend about the breakup of his marriage and the new woman he’s seeing. I’ve eaten lunch. I’ve raided my stash of snacks to the point that I feel vaguely nauseous from all the chocolate I’ve consumed out of sheer. fucking. boredom.

This job is supposed to be interesting. Creative. Exciting. The only interesting thing in this office is the slow decomposition of an apple that’s been sat behind my boss’s monitor for the past 7 weeks; the only creativity I can muster is using several different highlighters to annotate my notes; and as for exciting, well, unless you count “seeing how long I can go without talking to another human being” the most riveting afternoon of the century, I’m all out of ideas.

If I were to shut down this computer right now, grab my stuff and just go home, I don’t think a single person would notice for at least, ooh, an hour? Maybe more?

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