An hour and a half remained until he was free to leave; no cutting out early today as he had to man the phones from 1 to 5 instead of his prefered 8 to 12. This was the day he'd waited for all week. Friday, the day the love of his life and he would take the trip south to Cincinatti Ohio, home of the famous WKRP. He sat in his chair staring at the computer screen hoping the phone would ring or he would receive an email or an IM... anything to keep him occupied for this last little bit of time. Sure he could have cleaned his desk, but it always seemed pointless until he lost sight of his keyboard. That also was his attitude on washing dishes and doing laundry, both of which he hated doing, but begrudgingly always did. As he looked at his desk he realized he'd forgotten to take his Nexium and knew with the long trip ahead of him he'd best take it now or else this would turn out to be a very unpleasant trip. He popped the purple pill and sipped from the lemonade he had bought at lunch from sbarro. Now that his ulcer is on the way he can't drink caffeine. Don McLean swaggered from his speakers singing about the day that he'll die; if he had died after this song had came out he'd have been an enormous hit and all would have mourned him, but instead he'd gone on to make a load of crappy albums that never went anywhere near American Pie. "eighty degrees" he thought to himself as he checked the weather for the fiftieth time today and looked out the window at the sky littered with clouds and the trees waiving silently in the gentle breeze that must be just outside his window. Behind him he heard his fellow employees discussing things they could have asked him about but didn't. He decided not to chime in because they wouldn't listen anyway. The taste of his cheap lemonade lingered on the roof of his mouth so he went for water. "what is that smell??" he wondered to himself. He had a nose that was stronger than most, and thus was privy to things that most would never notice until they had stepped in it. Something smelled sweaty and kind of like vinegar. He was pretty sure it wasn't him. "still eighty degrees."

an hour and ten left.