On killing a Tuesday afternoon

Three hours went missing this afternoon and I have decided to investigate them, mostly because the alternative is admitting I simply let them go. The window says it is still light out. The clock disagrees about how much.

I had intended to do something productive here, and instead I watched the radiator tick and a square of sun crawl across the floor. There is a particular guilt that ships pre-installed with idleness, and I have spent years trying to disable it.

So here is the commit message: I was bored, and the boredom was not wasted. Something in me needed the floor to be just a floor, and the afternoon to be unaccounted for. The hours are still gone. I’d spend them the same way again.