Tick...tick...tick

I'm sitting here watching the clock tick like slow molasses towards four o'clock, hoping against hope that my boss will get bored enough to send us all home at five. We are at the end of a long week, and have actually gotten done everything we can possibly get done without a writer delivering. Please, let us go home. Please!

You ever feel like a kid again? I'm not talking about the young-at-heart bs people talk about, but a literal kind of feeling that occurred when you were a child, and comes up at you from behind now as an adult. That's the kind of Lost time loop feeling I'm having right now. (Man, I'm going to be bummed when Lost is over and I can no longer make these kind of au courant references.) As a girl sitting in the mint green cider-blocked classrooms of St. Joseph's Grammar School, I would keep my eyes glued on the big white clock over the blackboard, willing the second hand to move faster. Especially on those days when I knew we were getting out early. Please be 1:20, please! That's what I'm reliving right now, except instead of staring at a hair thin black line sweep over the numbers and head back toward twelve again, I'm staring at the nine point font down on the right hand corner of my screen, watching the colon blink the seconds away.

It's not like I have anything planned for tonight. In fact, I'll probably run across the street and do my grocery shopping before popping by Blockbuster and CVS. Then home, Jeeves, to make dinner and watch a flick. Not exactly pressing matters. But it's the freedom I crave. The freedom from putting in my time like I'm some sort of convict. Freedom from sitting here and staring at these blinking colons. Shouldn't you just be able to go home when you're done? Seriously... An Australian friend of mine once commented that Americans certainly log in more hours at work than any other post-industrial country, but we seem to get less work done. I completely agree with that assessment. We might work 50, 60, 70 hours a week, but we'll find ways to goof off for a good 25% of that. Earlier, I was listening to people talking about placing bets on Facebook poker...while they were playing it! HOME. PLEASE.

It just turned 4:27. Oh my god, this day will never end.