It’s pretty sad to come back to work after a three day weekend to find your cubicle filled with metaphorical manure. I can’t stand the penalty for taking some time off of work. It makes it very difficult to try and enjoy life. If I loved what I did for a living with all my heart I’d probably never leave. Unfortunately I only do this because I don’t know how to do anything else. Other than write these self-indulgent essays on why my little work life is so unsatisfying or crank out a story involving aliens or murder obsessed bedroom furniture.
It makes my insides hurt to be so overwhelmed with stupid nonsense work. It’s probably killing me. I honestly think that sitting in this cube all day and staring at the back stage of life is making me ill. I often am reminded of Joe Vs. The Volcano. Damn fluorescents.
With that being said I have to get to work. The mule I’m hitched up to wants to plow these fields and I’m helpless to resist. I’ve got to prepare like the ants instead of play all day like the grasshopper. Clearly it’s more fun to be the grasshopper. Who wouldn’t want to play in the sun all day?