Heading to work

Again almost time to leave for work
and there's so much else I'd rather do.
I'm sure, dear reader, you have no idea
what I'm talking about, do you?
Piles of new and ancient books lurk
around every corner. Once I thought they
could raise me up, be a panacea.
But if you don't exercise them they stay
flat and frigid, unable to breathe.
So I hide some of them away in
closets and thick boxes where they seethe
and plot some revenge starting at my shin.
But away to the office I must go
with dust on the books and my head held low.

I've been enjoying playing with the sonnet form lately. I don't know if there's much to this one, but I think it's fairly pleasant.