Work is slow. Yesterday I named my electric stapler and gave him a face, similar to the idea of Tom Hank's volleyball in Castaway, the name of which escapes me at this moment. My stapler's name is Pierre, and this is an ode to him.
You sit and stare
While I type
Useless numbers into a dead machine.
You quietly wait,
For someone to need your glorious power.
You are the binder,
Turning mere sheets of paper into bundles of economy.
How empty this desk would be
Somebody save me. On the bright side, I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon for a mini Iowa tour with Deep Soul and don't have to see this desk again until Tuesday. Woot!