Sarabande

Had one of those days where I just wanted to pack it in and quit this job and this god-awful shitty existence, trapped in a floating prison off the coast of West Africa.  I wanted to run screaming from work and not look back, but I can't run away.  I'm fucking stuck here, even if I quit.  Even if I launched the jet boat and hauled-ass for shore, I would run out of gas long before I reached the coast.  No, I could quit and then spend another week living at work.  Fuck.

I'll sit in the sauna reading a book for an hour and feel somewhat better in the morning, but GODDAMMIT, I just can't get away from it when things get ugly.

In other news I ate some eggplant tonight at dinner.