There's No Cure

It's a well-known fact that I hate my job. And my working environment is getting worse, day by day. I want out so bad... but I can't quit because Rob won't work and I don't have another job to go to. So tonight I told Rob I think a lot of my stress would be alleviated if I stepped down from night audit & went back to being a regular ol' desk clerk with no responsibilities. Immediately, he started arguing with me about how he thinks it would be a bad idea & first he said he didn't want to hear me bitch if I did step down, but I imagine after he saw my expression (it felt weird on my face, I have no idea what I actually looked like) he changed it to 'well, you can bitch but I won't offer any sympathy'.

So now I'm sitting here & the strongest urge to go get a shot of tequila washed over me. It's still a strong urge. I'd really, really like to get drunk, starting right about now. This is how I know that even after all these years of moderation and binging that is so infrequent it's more like occasional stupidity than binging that I am still an alcoholic.

I did, however, go to the gym earlier. I'm still having a helluva time with extending my right leg.