I'm not sure if everybody has this feeling. Maybe it's just me, and maybe it's just a measure of where my life is at right now. I have no living breathing thing waiting for me at home, and so I'm just a little more inclined to stay at work a little extra. That, and the fact that the project that I've grudgingly nursed for the last six months is stubbornly refusing to spread its wings and fly and is, in fact, hanging onto the side of the nest for dear life, forcing me to pound on its little wing-fingers in an attempt to get it to LET GO. "You can fly, little bird, I swear. You just have to stop sitting on your ass in my nest all day!"
So...is it bad that the only reason I'm going home now is that I'm looking forward to How I Met Your Mother and Big Bang Theory? Yes? It is? It makes me pathetic? Oh, all right then.