My procrastination knows no bounds. All week, I've been trying to get this thing done, but idiots keep putting smaller things in my path that have slowed me to a crawl. But now - now I have the time and the crushing need to complete this thing, and out of some fucked up, passive aggressive, self-destructive need to control my own time, I'm typing this instead of moving on my presentation. Fuck this job.

I spent weeks this winter and spring reeling from a simple question - "What do you do for fun?". I eventually realized that I didn't have fun anymore, didn't remember what it felt like, and couldn't give an answer that wasn't just sad. That prompted me to take a deep and frightening journey into myself, and ended with me getting a divorce.

Now I'm faced with an equally simple question - "What's your favorite part of your job?". I spent a day trying to answer the question. It's not that I was having a hard time deciding which of many parts was my favorite. Instead it was the sad fact that I can't think of a single element of this job that I enjoy anymore. Not one thing.

Sure, I get to flirt on the phone with some paralegals, but I could do that from home. I like the paycheck, too, but my soul is dying piece by piece, and the money's not enough to buy another one. If I was willing to give up my marriage to find happiness again, I need to screw together my courage and walk out of this horrible company.

I have an emergency exit, but I'm not ready to throw my chute just yet. I do, however, find comfort on fingering the cord while I fantasize of flipping over the table, shouting "FUCK THIS", and walking out dramatically. Oh yeah, and giving the woman at the desk next to me a deep, passionate kiss before I walk out. Sure, she'd be a little surprised, but not as much as the fools around us who haven't figured out we've been dating for months. Ha ha.