The slowest afternoon in history

Can anyone explain the elastic nature of time? Far from the impartial marking of minutes and seconds with metronome-like clarity, it actually is cruel and capricious. The few hours of work remaining on a Friday afternoon stretch at the speed of lava flowing to fill the remaining clock with a lifetime of impatience. You can’t make it go faster, you can’t skip ahead, and you certainly can’t ignore it.
So much to do, and so MUCH time to do it.

I need another doughnut and a nap.

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