The clock is ticking inexorably towards midnight.
If you look up the dictionary definition of “inexorably”, you find words to the effect of “in a way that is impossible to stop or prevent”. Whoever wrote the dictionary definition obviously hadn’t seen me throw an entire tool-chest full of spanners into the workings of the universe while playing the age old game of “staying up late to avoid tomorrow”.
We’ll ignore that tomorrow will arrive on the clock-face in a few minutes. Tomorrow doesn’t happen until I wake up in the morning. Future Jonathan probably won’t be too pleased about the sleep deprivation I’m landing him with. I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.
It’s been a day.
I would like to tell tales of daring-do a the coal-face of the pixel-mines, but alas there’s not much to tell that would interest anybody. I tried to contribute to the round of “how did your day go” stories at dinner time, but thought my story might cause a mass attack of narcolepsy, so thought better of it. How do you start a conversation about finding an alternative solution to some JavaScript deep in the bowels of a business automation solution at the heart of a European institution that you’re not really allowed to write about or talk about outside of the office?
Tomorrow will be another day. More of the same. More I cannot write about - that I should not write about. It’s quite the perplexing predicament.
Anyway. Here we are. Or there it is.
I wonder if it’s too late to be making a cup of hot chocolate? And eating a few of the chocolate cookies I bought at the store this afternoon? I wonder if there’s any rubbish left to watch on the television?
I rarely watch television. I sometimes try - perhaps led by peer pressure - but tend to be happiest pottering around on the internet late at night - reading about people’s lives, thoughts, hopes and dreams. The social internet has become an enormous escape of sorts - a world filled with doors - with opportunity potentially hiding behind each and every one.
Who will I discover next? What have they written about? Where are they from? What are they really saying? I wonder what they think about this? Have they written about that?
While wandering out into the kitchen to re-fill my cup, I invariably discover that the rest of the household retreated to bed some time ago. I look at the clock, and work out how many hours until tomorrow. Sometimes I give in. Sometimes I pay for it in the morning.