Apathy Level: Bartleby

Since my lifeforce got sapped by showing up every day to a dying husk of an office to do nothing, I’ve been a bit weary. Yesterday I had a pitched 30 minute battle with myself re: whether or not I should get up to use the bathroom.

I had to get a second opinion. The person I tapped felt that I *should* definitely get up and go. He or she was scandalized to envision any sort of elimination outside of tiled surroundings. Still, I wasn’t convinced.

I started to wonder “If I sit here long enough, will I just go ahead and go, or will my bladder explode? Does toilet-training override basic biological need?” Sometimes when I’m walking down the street, maybe to go to the subway, I also think about what would happen if I just stopped moving. I’d never get home. I might eventually freeze on the street, like some sort of mythological unfortunate. What does it feel like when you just can’t push yourself any farther? How do you know when you’re licked?

Epilogue: Did I go to the bathroom? I’m not saying. Just don’t check the plants in the corner.

-xxoo

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