I'm stuck. Who would notice if I weren't busying myself in some manner?
The sound of keystrokes and mouse-clicks with the occasional stretch and popping sound of joints stiffened by confinement within a tight, gray-felt-lined box . . .
Scurrying around the office searching for a purpose . . .
It really is that I'm just too fast at my work. If only I could work from home... Dare to dream . . .