Somedays are just ment to pass quickly. Days when your bored to hell, waiting for something to happen while trying to entertain yourself with something completely meaningless. Days when you're just waiting for the hours to go, until you're finaly excused to go to bed and wake up to a bright new day the following morning. What a waste of time. I really hate those days.

And it's not like you can find something usefull to do. Your room is perfectly clean, that is except for the dust in the corner and the spiderweb in your window, but after emptying your trashcan, you just don't bother going all the way back to fetch the vacuum cleaner.

Maybe you could go shopping, but then you'd have to take a shower and do something about your hair other than the horrible ponytail you've already fought it into. And it's really cold outside, and your training trouser are really much more comfortable than your jeans and your leather jacket, and even though your wallet's actually not all that empty, you just say "aw forget it" and lean back in the sofa.

And after going through your CD-stash twice and updating the virus programs on your laptop and pulling yourself enough together to call Blockbuster and ask if they've got the documentary about Joe Strummer, which the haven't, and couting the knobs in your wodden ceiling while trying to see if you could go to sleep again, you wind up sitting in that sofa again with absolutely nothing to do.

I hate those days. They're such a tragic waste of time.
You've got plans for tomorrow and for tonight, but until then you just have a whole day to kill, and what a shame. Days ought not to be killed. Every day is the first day in the rest of your life.