Hump day – but not in a good way. As you stand on the mid-point of the week aware the clock is still ticking and now the two and a half days lie ahead are all downhill to the weekend. And even though you are aware of the descent and the speed you are gaining, the clock appears to go slower each time you glance up at it. That clock will be thrown in the bin shortly.
Then it hits you – mid-week guilt. you know you should have done things and completed tasks by now, and there is an awareness that you don’t want to be working flat-out on Friday so you look to Thursday as your only truly productive day of work in a week. The guilt nags at you as the deadlines you ignored creep up behind you like a game of “What’s the time Mr Wolf.” Only to tap you on the shoulder before you can turn round and stop them.
And there it sits like the Raven upon the bust of Lenore reminding you that there is more coming and you’ll probably never get it done. You have the best of intentions at heart but are only too aware of the other timestamped landmarks on the horizon ready to replace the and consume the pile in front of you. Can I file it away in that drawer of things I’ve never been asked for and cover it with an excuse – something like it must have been filed by accident or complete denial you ever received it in the first place.
Your mind begins to wonder to the weekend. The plans, the time and how you are going to get all the things you have put off doing there done. It’s then you realise that you are probably the problem and if you just dealt with things as they came in there wouldn’t be the pile up both at work and home of jobs to do. I don’t remember when I had a completely clear Inbox on either my personal or work email list. These little noises of day-to-day life creep in alongside the military beat of the stopwatch counting to Friday and you realise that the timepieces are working in tandem and even when one stops the other continues. There’s no escaping old father time.
Looking out at the sunset which has been slowly slithering forward each day until you realise you say the sunrise from your work desk today as well. The dark is coming and soon only the orange, yellow and red lights punctuate the scene in front of you as you can make out the silhouetted skyline from the brake lights of distant cars. It’s no longer the peak of the hill you find yourself coming down but a set of spiral stairs that seem to go on forever – in fact you wonder what was at the top as you’ve been coming down them for as long as you can remember. Round in circles seeing nothing new or different; the same colours, patterns and all melting into one memory.
Maybe I never was at the top in the first place. Maybe there’s a landing I can stop at to work out where I am. Maybe there is only one direction to go here and I’m only just realising this now.