The tension in the muscles, the sense of irritation, the glazed look in the eyes, the discomfort, the pit of depression in the stomach, a feeling of soporific powerlessness, like a zebra fatally-wounded by a lion going "this chewing hurts a bit", yes: it's ten past eleven, I've been at work an hour or so, and I know why I'm not that keen to get here any sooner.
Things that would make my working life easier:
- Someone to turn off that fucking light that's glaring INTO MY FUCKING EYES!
- A more comfortable chair
- Belief that the project will amount to anything
- A sense of progress on what I've been picking away at this last week
- Different spectacles - these new ones have bent my world out of shape
- Giving it all up to run away to the circus
Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear.