It’s a little after two o’clock, and I am once again trying to will it to be five o’clock, using the awesome mental superpowers with which, it should by now be abundantly clear, the universe has not seen fit to grant me. A full two minutes have passed since I first sat down to write this, but that isn’t really the same thing as making it be five o’clock through the sheer force of one’s will, and it still leaves me with almost two hundred more minutes to fill up before the end of the day. I’ve spent most of today retyping addresses to create mailing labels for the books we have on order (and which we plan to ship out after they arrive sometime next week), but there’s only so much of that you can do before you go mad, blind, or both. So I’ve been puttering around online, trying to stave off boredom, hoping to get through to the end of the day, and halfheartedly cursing my luck for not having been born with mind-boggling powers of telepathy, telekinesis, or whatever it is one would use to make three hours pass by in a flash. What do people with real jobs do with their time?