Namaste chileno de mierda

I let out some pent up frustrations today. Regular verbal and physical catharsis is like a colonic for the soul. Sick. I hate that analogy. Hopefully nobody understands it.
Last night I uttered my first “I don’t want to go to work tomorrow” at the dinner table. I was thoroughly enjoying my wine and noshing on salmon with the family when thoughts of going to the office creeped in and marred a good buzz. My parents just gave me an “Are you kidding me?” look and I shut up.

This morning, however, at my weekly check-in with the boss, she asked me “On a scale from 1 to 10, 10 being the best, how do you feel about your job?” I wish I could have spared her feelings but I was honestly at a 3. I’ve been trying to make sense of these feelings since I landed what seemed like a dream job. I have every reason to be grateful and thanking my lucky stars that I have a steady income right out of school. But, instead of looking forward to work, I’m having to remind myself daily that this is a means to an end.

My second….WHAT THE F***?!?!?!?! Ok. Oscar just Skyped me. To hell with catharsis and yoga and intellectually stimulating blog posts. An hour and a half of Bikram poses is no match for ex boyfriends. Damn it all.