It's a fine day. One of those days when everyone asks, "How are you?" and you answer, "Fine."
Really... fine. No problems aside from the problem that it's Monday and Mondays suck. Life goes on and round and you wonder what's the point and you want to quit everything but its 5 days to the weekend and 2 months to the next holiday and god help me I don't think I can make it that long.
I find myself wishing for a catastrophe. Just so I'd have something to genuinely complain about. Just so something would happen that didn't happen yesterday, and won't happen tomorrow.
I find myself wishing I was an alcoholic. I'm not, and I would never drink at work, but I wish I was and I did.
I hate it when I complain and people offer solutions. If I wanted advice I'd ask for it. Complaining is not asking for advice. I know the effing solutions already anyways. Who doesn't? Who ever really got advice that they hadn't already thought of?
Being bored doesn't mean you have nothing to do. Boredom and busy-ness are not mutually exclusive. The most bored I've ever been is when I had a lot to do, but nothing fun to do.
It's just Monday. It's just work-life. The slow torturous death by a hundred thousand slivering seconds. Ennui, nothing more.