There is a communal work space near my office I go to on my lunch break to write and catch up on emails and let the music in my earphones blow away the office dust. Usually I buy a coffee but it's not required. I can make coffee in my office or get it for free from the 4th floor kitchen but still "treating" myself to a 6 dollar oat latte never loses its appeal." I deserve it," I tell myself, sometimes buying two (or God forbid) three plus an-app ordered lunch for about 20 bucks more. It's the same impulse to spiral down the rabbit hole of consumerism that sends me to apparel websites to browse sneakers and sweaters and shirts and belts as a balm to soothe stress or boredom.  I hiked up a beautiful steep mountain on the weekend and it didn't cost a thing. But with my feet rooted to the industrial carpeting of my building, my mind wanders to the closest adjacent fields. Some days it climbs to the higher realms - poetry, films, philosophy or history. But like an addict I continually seek remedies that are part of the disease. The money I spend in the workday obliterates my labour a dollar at a time and renders it invisible. I'm just consuming water today that I poured from the office water cooler retaining every minute of this morning's time for myself.