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i love physics.

every morning an endless battle ensues within me. the gravitational force that's tugging at me back into bed and the equally strong urgency derived from a pile of never ending work that's making me move towards my breakfast drawer.
usually the one that requires me to travel the shortest distance ends up victorious. the bed of cos, which goes without saying.
unless the force on the other end is simply too great a draw- a growling stomach maybe, but almost all the time, it's about work that's loading as if each piece were under the influence of gravity and the only way it could go is down onto me.

sometimes i wish both forces work in the same direction.

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