When push comes to shove, it don't mean much.
When you wake up sweating and choking from a nightmare you can barely remember, much less comprehend.. I do remember the dream, and it's like one I haven't had for a long time. However, I'm going to skip the freudian dream-interpretation session today, if you don't mind. It's not public matter, nor would you really want to hear it. The things in my head are the things of nightmares, which are best when kept in the dark. It does not bode well for a monday morning, or the rest of the day. I feel like water from a poisoned well. I am getting sick. I am also at work. This does not inspire me with glee. My head is pounding so much, I don't even have room for murder thoughts, so I don't know what I'm going to do with my day, other than keep my head down, get short, and wait for 5:00PM with baited breath, two spears, and a punji pit. I've slept about 3 hours in three days. 3 hours, and I wake up feeling like somone shat in my heart, loaded me on amphetamines and opiates, and left me naked in a snowy denver zoo to be prodded and hooted at by the animals. Of course, this is how I normally view work, except with less congestion and my headbones don't hurt nearly as much.
I think hating your job really is the great american past-time. Second, possibly only, to hating your life.
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