“Sometimes when this place gets kind of empty”

I´m listening to the classical music station on my headphones: They´re playing some Medieval piece inspired by this 14th-century poem, French I think, about either this ass or this donkey who becomes buddies with the goddess of Fortune and gets into nobility and court and stuff like that. It´s supposed to be a political allegory. Donkey ends up befriending powerful feudal lords and mighty bishops. Donkey marries with the goddess of Vanity with other metaphors such as Adultery and Lust being invitees to the ceremony. Donkey ends up ruling the kingdom, and discovers his (its?) purpose in life is to pave the way to the anti-Christ.
Regardless of anything, Medieval chamber music sounds so f*cking sissy it´s no wonder man actually outgrew stuff like the plague and the Crusades only to send radio-controlled toys to Mars.

I shift my weight from my left buttock to the right one atop the conference desk as I bend sideways to plug the network cable into this thin client terminal and almost knock the coffee mug off the table. I take another sip, then another.
Then another.

I´d wish for my knees to heal faster if it´d ever made any sense.
My knees hurt so much: I´ve busted them running over asphalt with a backpack once again. For like, the fifth time these last five years or so?

I slip my hand into my breastpocket for my cell phone and change the station for the old familiar rock station: The Church starts playing Under the Milky Way Tonight and this is the time you actually expect this train of thought to reach any station.

It doesn´t, though: I can hardly wait for working hours to end, to go home and fix myself some ice cubes on plastic bags on my legs...