I'm sitting here at Panera, enjoying the free internet and a delicious spinach artichoke souffle-thing, searching for new jobs on the internet. I hate my job. Hate it to the point where just imagining being in that building makes me shake and hyperventilate. I have never hated a job this much in my entire life.
The last time I was at work, I looked around and realized that I would really rather be doing literally ANYTHING than being in that building. I mean anything. Garbage collecting? - sure why not. Wiping old people's asses all day? - sign me up!
After I made that stunning realization, I knew that I couldn't go back. I've been calling in sick ever since. And posting my resume out across the internets.
I realized how bad it had gotten when Bryce looked at me the other night and basically told me, "It's so nice to have my wife back". I've just been fucking miserable to deal with lately. I guess hating every minute of your job and dreading going back the entire time you're home will do that to you. It's like all I wanted to do when I got home from work was take a Vicodin and go to bed.
So anyway, I'm back, bitches. Hopefully for the better.