Neck And Neck

The day is dripping like ketchup from a half empty bottle, and creeping like an elderly person without a walker.  Time never moves this slow when I want it to, only when I’m at work, or enduring something.  At this point I don’t care who wins, the ketchup, the old man, it doesn’t matter.  I just want one of them to cross the finish line so I can clock out and go home.