Friday Afternoon Fever

It's amazing how creative
one can be when
procrastinating.
On Friday afternoon
at 3:17, my co-workers
and I walk around
like lost children,
shifting from desk,
to break room,
to bathroom,
to the god-forsaken
basement
(in extreme cases).
Non-smokers consider
taking up nicotine
as they watch the smokers
congregate under the trees.
"That doesn't look half
bad," my manager quips
as he observes the
addicts' 15 minutes of
freedom
"on the outside."
Back at our desks, we
try to drum up small
talk about
The Golden Girls,
The Office, and
Saturday Night Live;
then return to our
monitors for more
Web surfing.
The neighbor in the
cube next door mutters,
"It feels like we've been
here for six days…
and that's just since
eight o'clock."
Eventually, five o'clock
will arrive, saving us from
overdoses on bad coffee,
stale corn chips and
shoddy Web sites.