In the Thick of It
Here I am again, folks, still suffering without anyone kind enough to put me out of my misery.
It's Tuesday, which sucks (I want it to be Saturday, every day from now until Sunday, and after Sunday I want it to be Saturday again! So there!), I'm at work (which sucks), and I gotta work until 7 or so tonight, when I got here at 7:30 this morning (ultrasucks).
Seriously, I gotta find another way to do this. I mean, this job is a good job and all -- I guess -- but it's forty miles one way to work, and that means that I'm losing TWO DOLLARS an hour just to pay for gas every week. To put it another way, I'm making extra money because I don't work in my hometown, but then I am losing that extra money to pay for the privilege of working somewhere other than my hometown. To put it yet another way, I could have taken the job at the Dairy Queen or the grocery store and still made just as much take-home as I am now, less the money that I blow on gasoline. I would actually much rather have taken just such a job, but now, I am such a freakin' idiot that I actually feel committed to this job and would feel guilty if I left. What's that, you say? Oh, but I am not kidding; I actually would feel guilty of desertion if I quit a job that I totally despise, not to mention my feelings that it's ruining my life even faster than my deep-seated depression. How's that for being the world's biggest idiot?
Of course, what I really want to do is to sleep. Just to go home, get into my nice soft bed, and stay there. If I wake up in a day or two and can't go back sleep, I can always read a book for an hour or two until I feel drowsy again. Ah, what a wonderful fantasy....
Oh, and for that person who emailed me: my old blog is here. See what you think. Just please, please, don't post any comments there that refer back to this blog, because this blog is a SECRET (hence the mystifying title). I really, really, REALLY don't want my wife to know about this one. Not because anything I've written here is wrong, or untrue, but rather because I didn't feel that I had done anything wrong last time, and that blog got me a coffeepot in the eye that almost blinded me. I don't wanna see what she'll do to discourage me next -- she's mentioned cutting off my fingers so I could never use a keyboard again, and once again, I am not kidding.
Peace out, kids.
It's Tuesday, which sucks (I want it to be Saturday, every day from now until Sunday, and after Sunday I want it to be Saturday again! So there!), I'm at work (which sucks), and I gotta work until 7 or so tonight, when I got here at 7:30 this morning (ultrasucks).
Seriously, I gotta find another way to do this. I mean, this job is a good job and all -- I guess -- but it's forty miles one way to work, and that means that I'm losing TWO DOLLARS an hour just to pay for gas every week. To put it another way, I'm making extra money because I don't work in my hometown, but then I am losing that extra money to pay for the privilege of working somewhere other than my hometown. To put it yet another way, I could have taken the job at the Dairy Queen or the grocery store and still made just as much take-home as I am now, less the money that I blow on gasoline. I would actually much rather have taken just such a job, but now, I am such a freakin' idiot that I actually feel committed to this job and would feel guilty if I left. What's that, you say? Oh, but I am not kidding; I actually would feel guilty of desertion if I quit a job that I totally despise, not to mention my feelings that it's ruining my life even faster than my deep-seated depression. How's that for being the world's biggest idiot?
Of course, what I really want to do is to sleep. Just to go home, get into my nice soft bed, and stay there. If I wake up in a day or two and can't go back sleep, I can always read a book for an hour or two until I feel drowsy again. Ah, what a wonderful fantasy....
Oh, and for that person who emailed me: my old blog is here. See what you think. Just please, please, don't post any comments there that refer back to this blog, because this blog is a SECRET (hence the mystifying title). I really, really, REALLY don't want my wife to know about this one. Not because anything I've written here is wrong, or untrue, but rather because I didn't feel that I had done anything wrong last time, and that blog got me a coffeepot in the eye that almost blinded me. I don't wanna see what she'll do to discourage me next -- she's mentioned cutting off my fingers so I could never use a keyboard again, and once again, I am not kidding.
Peace out, kids.
posted by County Boy at 1:57 PM
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