Uninspired

"I hate going to work."
I said to my friend V. as we got into the taxi this morning. V. is a barrister. He was working until 2am last night. I had just told him that I'd been out until midnight having a drink with friends. So he simply glared at me through his glasses.
"No one likes going to work."
He said. We both sighed a little, and it started to rain. You could hear the sound of the rain bouncing off the roof of the car. I noticed we were both wearing pink shirts. V. was wearing a suit that was made of a deliciously patterned fabric - very City, very London. I imagined myself wearing a suit made of the same fabric and decided it would look very good on me, too.
"You know, it's a bit better when you're working for yourself,"
V. said. V. works very hard. But it's for himself, so it's bearable. Who am I working for, I wondered idly, looking ahead into the traffic on Queen's Road East. V. stretched a little, and said,
"I couldn't get up any earlier this morning."
"No, I couldn't, either."
"You didn't look awake when I saw you. How's your deal going? Are you going to be busy at some point?"
I chose not to comment on the sarcasm but said,
"We will be, soon. I expect I'll go a little crazy then."
He laughed.
"Yes, when things go crazy for City lawyers it really does go crazy, doesn't it? I mean, the hours you work...."
I nodded, thinking of the hours I had worked before back in London. V. works very hard, for himself. What do I work for, I wondered again, but no answer came to me.

I got into my office and wrestled with my computer before finally giving in to call the IT whizz, D. He noticed I was glum, so while he was fixing the problem, D. told me about his theories on where the expression 'raining cats and dogs' came from.
"So you know, you'd have these animals up on the loft in the hay and when it would rain, the rain would come down through the thatching on the roof and the animals would sometimes slip off the hay and fall onto the ground,"
He said, as he demonstrated why I'd been unable to start up the computer (don't ask).
"No way. You just made that up."
I said, laughing at the thought of animals landing with a thump onto where the family would be sleeping.
"I'm serious. That's where the expression came from."
D. protested, but he was grinning too, so I couldn't really tell whether he was being serious or not. I felt cheered up anyway. Little things like this numb me to the banality of days in the office - I don't know if I have any answers to my questions but I'm still here.