I've Got Nothing

My boss has been sick the past few days, and since we share an office and work in such close proximity, it's inevitable that I'll catch it soon. For the past twenty-four hours I've been slamming Airbourne, hoping to build up my resistance, and yet, something still feels off at the moment. Unfortunately, I can't tell if I'm coming down with something or my neurosis is just in overdrive. Meanwhile, I'm bored at work. I have this ad I'm supposed to be working on, and I've designed several different PDF's to show my boss as soon as he gets in tomorrow, so it's not like I've been slacking. It's just with the gallery so quiet now, I can't help but nod off every so often; then suddenly I hear a crack in the ceiling and leap forward, worried that someone has climbed the steps and is about to catch me sleeping on the job. I guess I could just go home, since coming up with one final design seems impossible at this stage of the afternoon, and I like what I've already worked on, but in a weird way I don't want to take any sick leave until I'm really down and out. The thing is, nobody would even care if I did go home, but there's something in me that still feels like I'd be pulling a fast one, so I guess I'm just going to sit here and stare at the screen, hoping I'll have one last artistic breakthrough before the sun goes down. So between watching old videos of Ice Cube on youtube and browsing through David Carson's End of Print for new ideas, I thought I would try and write something here.

Unfortunately, with a best friend in Vegas having a difficult time at the moment (despite me telling her last night I would be coming to visit around Thanksgiving), and a housemate who hasn't left her room in six days, I'm surrounded by doom and gloom, and any attempt at mustering a funny anecdote here seems contrived.

The point of all this is, I've got nothing for you, and I'm sorry. I'll try harder next time.