Real Job and Rainy Day Blues

It’s 10:15 on Wednesday.

I made a promise to myself awhile back that to keep from stressing out and making myself sick again, I would take a few minutes of time each morning for me… whether it’s writing a blog post, or reading a chapter of a book, or even revising something I’ve written, I just need that little sliver of time in the middle of a busy work day to forget about work.

Everybody else around here gets 10-minute breaks to smoke or talk on the phone… I’m choosing to be productive with mine.

Yes, I do still have a day job.  I’m not good enough to be one of those fancy “full-time” writers yet.  Hopefully one day I’ll get there, but until that time comes I’m relegated to the back corner of the office as everyone’s professional gopher.  (Get it?  Gopher… Go-Fer… go for…? Meh, nevermind.)

I currently have a conference room full of management and engineers who are gearing up for a fairly large project that I’m likely going to be managing.  I was supposed to be in there, but I managed to squeak my way out as the door was closing with the excuse that I’ve got too many other things to do.  Yes, I do have other things to do, but the truth is that I really just don’t want to be stuck in that cold room with those windbags for three hours.

Plus, today is Administrative Professionals Day, and some of us are having lunch at the Chamber of Commerce at noon.  I just hope the food is better this year – the last time we went, there wasn’t enough food and our table was the last to get through the “line”… it was a bit disappointing.  I’m still not sure about the 85-year-old socialites and their idea of a “fashion show” either.  Anyone in this town with a sense of fashion is either on their way out or gay.

Or both.

To top off the grumpiness associated with real work, the weather outside is a bit on the gloomy side.  Clouds, rain, and thunder make for a perfectly horrid work day.  Days like this are the days I’d much rather be curled up at home on the couch with my laptop and my three little furballs.

I’d have a big mug of hot tea, a bowl of some sort of munchies, and a plot to get tangled up in.  My iPod would be going at full-volume, and though I know better I’d probably be singing along and scaring the bejeezus out of my poor cats.

Yeah, no…I can’t sing.  AT ALL.

[insert dramatic sigh here]

Daydreaming is all well and good, but I really shouldn’t do it at work.  My desire to not be here is so overwhelming at times that it makes me want to cry.  The job isn’t bad, but sometimes I do want something different.  I’ve been here eight years almost, and I am ready for a change.

Aaaaaand… it’s now 10:25.  My ten minutes is up.  Back to the real world now.

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