The working body.

Fall out of bed, Put on the kettle.
Stumble to the shower. Soap, lather, rinse. 

Repeat.

Spray on deodorant. Put on the trousers, put on the after shave.

Put on the shirt.

Make a cup of tea. Head to the computer.

Check out the news. Check out the Facebook.

Never drink more than half the cup of tea.

Look at the time.

Kiss your love goodbye.

Reach for the jacket. Walk out to the car.

Take all the backstreets, pull up in the carpark.

Check your ID. Head in to the office.

Make another cuppa.

Shuffle to the carpark. Drink the cup of tea.

Contemplate the weather.

Head back to the cubicle, go through all the emails.

Reply to what you can. Think about the problems.

Think about the day. Think about the problems.

Open up some screens, see the cup is empty.

Head out to the kitchen and make another cuppa.

Slink off to the toilet. The silence there is massive.

Let the body do what the body has to do.

Wash. Your. Hands.

Grab the cup of tea and go and sit back down.

Look at all these problems.  Head out to the elevator.

Go to the departments giving you these problems.

Maybe it's too early.  Maybe they're not in yet.

Head back to your area.

Check out the news (that you looked at half an hour ago).

Look again at Facebook (that you looked at half an hour ago).

Lean back and stare at the flouro lights.

Thing. Of. Nothing.

Check to see if anyone's come in and logged on Skype.

Nobody. Look at the problems and think about solutions.

Greet some people coming in and genuinely smile.

Though you don't want to smile. Must be a human thing.

And now it's nine o'clock and everybody's rolling in.

Go back to stage one: "Grab the cup of tea."

Repeat.

This is what the body does. Your body.

My body.

This is what the brain in the body does.

Your brain.

My brain.

Repeat.

Ad.

Nauseum.

Be guarded.

These proscriptions are not meant to be carried back into the real world.

Bodies.