Number swim in front of my eyes,
swirling, dancing, making me curse.
What did I do to deserve this punishment?
Have I not done as you asked every single time?
What’s that? This is only done once every two years?
Oh, it’s also part of my damn job.
Fine, I’ll get back to it.
Compiling data makes me crazy.
Also, I’ve noticed that I tend to write poetry on Fridays.
I guess that’s a thing now.