Work has been slow recently.
Without going too far into the intricacies of my job, because it really isn't that interesting, we are currently in a lull period. There aren't many clients, specifically in my department, and over the last two weeks there's barely been anything for me to do. Some days, I haven't talked to a single client. Although they all seem to like me (because I am, after all, full of natural charm and joie de vivre), clients have tended to come to me, we work together until they get to the point they want, do their final thing and then leave.
I suppose this means that I'm quite good at it, but I've never really considered that.
On the surface, it looks the same as it always has - the same players are there, including the receptionist who looks like a girl I once had cybersex with, my 78-year-old boss who can still do the job standing on her head and the administrator who always turns up and opens the office ten minutes after we're meant to have started. My usual array of suited co-workers, some of whom even know my name, also make cameo appearances.
But it feels different. I tend to sit in place, alone, spinning my chair and scrolling absent-mindedly through Twitter on my BlackBerry, half pleased that I get a quotient of rest I often don't get at night time (I actually fell asleep last week), and half agitated on the assumption that somebody's going to come in and ask me to do something and I won't be in a state to do it because I've already started to drop off. Today, thankfully, things started happening relatively soon after I got there and I only started to get bored just before I went home.
What's interesting, if you synonymise "interesting" with "annoying", is the effect that this has been having on my sex life. While Seaside Slut notes an interesting way of spending time at work, and it's always possible to crack open a private browsing window and scroll through the sex blogs for a while (I've done that before - although I've changed jobs since), I don't really feel the urge to do anything particularly sexy while I'm there. Well, it's not really the environment for it, even if there is at times a sanctuary available.
This has spilled over into my home life, and I am NOT HAPPY WITH THIS.
It's not that I don't want to have sex. I do want to - dear God, how I want to have sex. I just come home incredibly tired, and my girlfriend is tired too, and it... well, it doesn't happen. I mean, it happens, but not as much as I want it to. As energetic as I may want to be, it just doesn't go anywhere. I can masturbate, but what I really want is to have MOAR SEKS.
But I'm working on a return to normalcy. I've started going running (and complaining about it) again, my parents are back to doing what they usually do, I'm coming home at the usual time and doing the same stuff I usually do (which mostly amounts to pratting about online and playing Luigi's Mansion 2, but you get the drift). And with normalcy comes familiarity, and with familiarity comes sex, the mind-blowing, mutually beneficial, sweaty and dehydrating sex we can (and will) have.
Fuck work. You may take my energy... but you'll never, ever, take away my sexy.