Work? WTF!

Just who in the hell was it that came up with this whole notion of work? Was it the same big firm that also brought us such insidious ideas as god and war? This is what I ponder as I sit gazing apathetically out my soon to be blocked office window. Wishing desperately that the end of the day was closer than the eternal hour and a half that it actually is. Things in the office just keep getting better and better. My wife got laid off at the beginning of the year. For a long time we both worked at the same place. Not anymore thanks to the powers that be. I can certainly understand why employers don't like to hire family or spouses. A lot of my co-workers got an earful whether they wanted it or not through my rantings and ravings and threats of bodily harm. Just kidding. The ravings were kept to a minimum.

Then they furloughed us for another fiscal year. God knows I could use the time off, but I am also trying to get caught up on the debt I have accrued recently. Thankfully, my wife has landed another and shall I say better job than the one she had here. I will at least try to stagger the hours I don't get paid for so it won't have as much of an impact on my now minuscule sized wallet.

Now, they are going to block my view with three 30-ton cooling units that are supposed to cool the fucking data center, they have down in the basement, that is basically the network for the entire state of Utardia. We're not just talking schools here, but the legislature, highway patrol...etc. It wouldn't bother me so much except for the fact the building doesn't have a tenth of the infrastructure to support what they've got down there, but because the world is run by fucking bureaucrats, they are going to go ahead and squeeze in what they can. I'm sure it would be a different story all together if they were going to block the view of someone with a corner office.

I suppose I should be grateful that I still have a job. I do really like what I do and I have a really great boss. We keep each other laughing for most of the day, but for fucks sake, everybody has their breaking point and I am rapidly approaching mine. I have no illusions that I will probably not be landing the big record contract that I have always wanted or be going into space as the first average white-guy astronaut, but I do have a wonderful wife whom I love very much, a couple of great dogs, a kick-ass band and some mighty green buds. I just wish I was home enjoying those things right now. Less than an hour from now, I will be. I suppose until then, I will sit here and be a less than willing participant in the whole insane joke known as "the eight hour day."

See you at 4:20,

Spencer