I was born. I suffered.
I suffered some more, and hopefully,
I won't die a painful death.
This is my life.

Cubicle tomb

I've come to the sad conclusion that I'm going to have a massive coronary one day. "Sad," you say? Normally a sudden fatal heart attack would be a welcomed way to check out. But I'm going to have mine in my cubicle. There I'll sit, hand on the mouse copying and pasting. Then, bam! By the time anyone even notices, rigor will kick in and I'll start to smell. The coroner won't be able to pry me out of the position I'm in. Buried, with my left hand on the keyboard, right hand in copying/pasting mode, sitting, for all eternity on my rotten 15 year old hand-me-down office chair.