my stapler, my stapler

Well here I am tired and sleepy and attempting to read reports but finding the words keep floating across the page and realizing I have no idea what I just read so it does not appear to be very productive so ... I'll procrastinate a little. Of course I have absolutely nothing of interest to say as my mind is reeling from control group X to control group B and average numbers of comparison and charts and medians and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggggggggg bleeping ringing phones and clicks of keys across the wasteland of papers making babies across my space and I crave release in the form of caffiene addiction and nicotine stained glass peering out across the grey skies of rained warmth and lost pens ... I want my stapler ... my stapler ... my stapler ... I would love to spew poetic bullshit right now but unfortunately I do not have the mind energy to create anything worthwhile 'cause I am groggy soggy and very loagie and the cobwebs in my head are slipping out into the creases of my skin, dangling dandelions draped across a beaded forehead and I must push aside the dangerous dreamy and pluck the numbers from my mind of logic crammed into right brain left ...