The ol' 4pm slump, that seems to manifest its form in a vastly aggravated fashion on Friday's.
On any normal day, these attempts at ravaging my senses with the need to shovel something fried at this hour are usually thwarted with a wise enfilade of fruits or nuts and a small cup of coffee or tea, however this doesn't seem to be the case on Weekends.
Why so, I wonder.
Could also be due to the fact that I tend to keep not nearly as busy or the fact that my psyche tends to fly off the handle and resists any attempt at even witnessing anything remotely sensible to eat. The very thought of seeds and nuts is a no go in my brain.
So here I am, brewing a rather small glass of coffee and lustily eyeing a packet of biscuits with an unwarranted carnal need. True, I'd not eat more than two of those flat disks of buttery flour and yet the urge to tear open that packet with a self-indulgent voluptuous rage is unmistakable.
Update: I ate three biscuits.
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