The inbox is stubbornly empty. My work day begins once again with fucking off.

I'm too lazy to write yet another poem about fucking off, so please accept this short piece of prose about fucking off in lieu thereof.

I actually worked pretty hard (paid work and personal /life work) today from 8:30am til now (almost 11pm) with a couple of breaks (coffee, lunch, a short jog, dinner).

I'm not convinced I feel any better about myself than when I fuck off most of the day.

More data needed.