This is the fourth day in a row that I have been hating my job with a roiling passion.
Most of my teaching career, I have not hated it. I have loved it. Mostly. But the last four days, I have been having fantasies of becoming a postal worker or a bee keeper or a cocktail waitress or - hell - even a cashier at a bookstore.*
Is this it? Is this what it is like for everyone else? The hating of the job, thing, I mean?
Instead of grinding away at the novelty of my hatred, I'll just say that yes, I do grind my teeth when I sleep and I can't help it because I am unconscious when I am doing it. If that turns out to be the grossest thing about me, I'll consider myself fortunate. (It's not.) (The grossest, that is).
Picture I took at some unsociable hour this morning:
I'll write again when I am feeling... some other way than the way I am feeling right now.
Thank you for reading.
*stop laughing, Supajewie. Nobody knows about that but you and me.