Seduced by the evil white box

It’s 9:30pm. I’ve pushed two websites out the door this evening - freelance projects that I’ve been kicking around for the last week or so. The tiredness hit me in the last half an hour - the kind of tiredness where some invisible demon stacks increasingly heavy weights on your eyelids.

Further work is rolling along behind, ready to hit the buffers and await my gaze. If I crouch low to the internet railway tracks, I can hear it’s approach.

In the corner of the desk, the lava lamp spurts jets of green goo high into the air - a welcome distraction from the pale blue of Twitter, and the green of Basecamp.

On the corner, the Nintendo DS sits quietly - whispering into my brain. I was seduced last night by it’s glowing charms - downing tools at 11pm, and embarking on a concerted war of attrition against the pretend Japanese armies into the early hours. I finally snapped the little white box shut at 2:30am, knowing too well that I would be comatose in the morning.

Be strong. Don’t pick the little white box up. You need sleep.