100 hours of solitude

I think I’d probably like to work at home. Here in the office, you see, people keep wandering about. There is the constant threat that they will ask why I have 14 YouTube videos cued up. My boss really has no boundaries. Perhaps I shall go and work for Netflix. I hear they have an unlimited holiday quota and don’t require receipts for expenses. I imagine their office is filled with people who used to want to be MPs. My life in the office is a constant battle. There’s someone who every single morning puts in two slices of bread, toasts them, and leaves them in the toaster.

The conditions here are intolerable. Yesterday the peanut butter ran out. If I worked from home, I would most likely arise naturally at 6.30am and go for a bracing 10mile run. I have tried running into the office, but other people have complained about my sweaty, short shorts wearing appearance at 10.45. (It’s so FAR to the office. I had to have a few rest stops and wait for some buses). Once again, I really wish my boss would appreciate my boundaries. Yesterday, he asked me how my project was coming along. I spent a good 6 minutes cheerfully talking about how difficult it is to make the perfect mixtape these days while he nodded sagely. He then quietly sent me an email asking about my ‘other’ project, for our client. I spend far too much of my day thinking about other people like these ‘clients’. I need to streamline. If I worked at home, my productivity would soar. I would finally finish learning the Justin Timberlake ‘Like I love you’ choreography.

I would work out how to flip an omelet without turning it into a soggy, unappetising mess. I would finally have the time to go through the dictionary and learn all the good insults. (I’m currently stuck on ‘A’, so calling my colleagues arrogant apes pretty regularly). As you can see, I would finally be able to WORK.

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