They Call Me Hamlet

It's been a fairly busy day--work was achingly exhausting, cat came home with another sparrow (second or third this week!), faxing grades to the insurance company for a "Good Student" discount. All in all, I'm glad to be home and relaxing. Today has been one of those days, I felt weary with muscle aches for most of my 8-hour shift. If it were any other job, especially Chapters, I would have no problem trudging through the work in that time. However, I swear this warehouse harbours a great maelstrom where time swirls in primal form, pure chaos without form, because time NEVER flies during a shift--it drags on FOREVER. Or perhaps I just dread the work--I'm use to retail so I'm probably just being a whiner, or feeling inadequate.

The original reason I meant to post was to showcase this interesting essay on the mousetrap in Hamlet. Something tells me Hamlet is my favourite play--besides the fact I've been called a Hamlet.