the cold hurts my hands. i clasp them round a hot cup of strong tea. looking at the table of clutter i find things to occupy my time.

playing with the molten wax like a mentally challenged child. trying ot mold a shape before it turns into its non-plastic state. always disappointed with my result.

i think about all the great things i could do if i could be arsed. thinking about it feels like to much effort. i want the day to go faster so i can go to bed guilt free.