(V2.0 ) I wish

[opabinia]

I could grab this week by the throat and gouge its eyes out with my fingers.

The work week is over, and I'm about to leave for the gym, but I feel positively foul. I've been waking up five or six times through the night, every night, getting no real rest. I could never write down the hundreds of tiny, tiny things that went wrong since Monday morning; I can't even remember most of them. Taken alone, they would mean nothing, but they make me furious all added together. I've been all thumbs at work. I spent half my time putting out my own fires. Outside of the gym, I don't think I've felt relaxed for two minutes in a row all week. What's with this sudden explosion of stress, irritability, and loathing?

My bedroom is a fucking wreck. I'm tired. Where's my fucking raise? I'm going to the gym.