Dolce Far Niente

running, and running, and running on a spinning wheel like an indefatigable hamster; persisting... on and on as dawn creeps into dusk's front door and makes a backyard exit, a dyed-in-the-wool workaholic can barely move a limb after slaving through his graveyard shift. he's finally home early morning; body and spirit, exhausted. with a cold brew in his hand, he leans back on his comfortable recliner and takes a big gulp... a h h h h ! ! ! temporary freedom from back-breaking work never tasted so refreshing!! he's earned his right to be blissfully idle throughout the day. he's got hours of sleep to catch up on!