Drowsy from inaction

The whole building vibrated with a purr of satisfaction. Every air conditioner, photocopier and coffee machine was synchronised in perfect harmony with a slow and warmly comforting sleepiness that enveloped the offices and flooded the corridors, sending waves of contentment deep into the soft brains of employees cradled between desk and chair. For a Tuesday, the office was unusually underpopulated, and those that remained enjoyed a strangely Friday-afternoon laxity, like the best kind, when warm rays of a sinking sun in the late, late summer days of autumn soak through the glass and fill the wet air outside with a fragrant buoyancy, and it seems the only thing in the future is the weekend, and a multitude of un-nameably pleasant possibilities.

Clive soaked in the hazy bliss of the afternoon, not caring to wonder what the rest of the week was going to entail, not stopping to consider how awake the law might require him to be in order to drive home in a few hours, not giving half a fig who might walk in expecting busy employees concerned with efficient productivity. Of course, snoozing at the desk compared favourably with Clive's usual afternoon occupation of laughing at all the jokes he had made during the morning in productivity stakes, but was more visibly unproductive. To Clive, it was a clear cut decision - if no-one else would laugh at them, a painful backlog of hilarity may well build up inside him which must be released. It was good for the heart to laugh for hours on end - clears out the tear-ducts too. Not so good for the sides of course, but then they were getting a good rest just now, they'd probably recover quite well.

Skipsapiens - Macrosecuantico (from Eco)