A day at the office.

Wednesday. Proudly marking the halfway point of the working week, it inspires hope in us all - after lunch it's practically the weekend. It must be the office that's responsible for our ironic optimism, driving us to wish away precious minutes of our lives. Recent news has deemed those working in I.T. to be the most miserable people in the country - maybe computers are somehow draining our life force? It may be a desperate attempt at avoiding responsibilty for our own boredom, but such illogical thinking must be a sure-fire symptom of office cabin fever.
Yet the office also provides us with a sanctuary from reality. Safe from the wind and rain, the same things happen day after day in a predictable merry-go-round of clock-watching. In a way it's all quite comforting - the intermittent clicks and whirrs of the fax machine, the hum of the monitors. Even the gentle tapping of keys complements the polite yet patronising background murmur.
For some one facing a full in-tray to say the least as my final University year looms, saying goodbye to a comfortable summer job provokes a twinge of apprehension. So what is wrong with me? I should be longing to escape this monotony - just a week ago I'm sure I was. Judging by the thousands of office hermits wishing they did something different each day, it's clear that the nature of the office as a refuge is preventing us from following our dreams. It's easy, not too badly paid and we know what we're doing. But it's this relentless circular existence that's holding us back - does anyone realise it in the deja vu of the everyday? Blink and you've lost twenty years.