Tuesday, September 6, 2011
As time trickles onward I grow more and more angry about having to work.
When my alarm beckons me awake at 5:45am Monday through Friday, I get downright pissed off. I know I am able to press the snooze button a few times before I actually have to drag my ass out of bed, but it isn't enough. Sleep is my vice.
I don't like being told what to do so when the alarm clock demands I get out of bed and make myself look presentable to sit in my office all day long, I want to scream.
I'm lucky in that I can work at my own pace. I am not micromanaged. I work a seven hour day and get one hour for lunch. I don't punch a clock. If I have errands to run, I run them. I should be grateful for the position I am in but I'm not.
When I'm at the office, I want to keep my head down and power through the workload I have until I can go back home. When people come in my office to ask questions, my blood boils. I hate to be interrupted even if I'm not doing actual work. The interaction makes me want to scratch until I bleed.
I don't want to work. I want to sleep in every day. I want to be leisurely at home. I don't like deadlines and I don't like planning. Working makes me feel robotic. I go through the motions because I have to, not because I want to. And that? That makes me raging mad.
I've turned into this unrecognizable angry person. My moods shift like lightning flashes in a stormy sky.
"Good morning. How are you? How was your weekend?" I'm asked.
"Hi. Fine. Okay. You?"
I keep it simple. I avoid eye contact. And I hope to high hell you don't go into detail because I honestly don't give a shit how your weekend was. Spare me the detail.
Why am I so angry all the time?