My apartment seems to be some kind of time-sucking vortex that I don’t think existed prior to my move-in. I suspect that seven years of housing my sedentary ass has had an effect on the cosmic pull of these 8ooish square feet. There’s a lot of things I need to be doing right now, but I sat down. I once had a bottle of milk go bad because I came home, sat down and forgot about putting it in the fridge. My alarm goes off at 9:15am and I walk out the door to work at 11:15am. I don’t wash my hair in the morning; nor do I exercise or eat breakfast. What the hell am I doing for two hours?! This morning I decided to pay attention. I discovered that I spend a lot of time standing around, in varying degrees of undress, holding coffee. I also learned that I waste minutes on end yelling at live trial coverage on television. And I pick up my dog a lot. What do I do for two hours every morning? Nothing. I do absolutely nothing.