A visit from the Critic

So I am having a job-hating day. Or, to be more precise, a day in which I ponder the many ways in which my coworkers infuriate me, a day in which I ponder hanging a sign on the back of my chair that says "please do not disturb the editor or she might actually bite you," a day in which I wonder what other careers my writing and sarcasm skills might qualify me for.

This day was preceded by a day in which I decided I am not actually qualified to hold my job. That was a GREAT day, I tell you. One in which Ginga's Critic guy took up residence in my head.

Critic guy caused me to wonder if all the thinking I've been doing lately about kids (ie, having them) just comes from the fact that I'm aggravated with work and looking for a reason to care less about it. Because I must have an ulterior motive for thinking about kids, right? I couldn't just be ready for the whole family thing... I gotta second-guess and analyze and drive myself frickin' insane over it all.

Ok, clearly someone here has very low blood sugar and is in need of snack. And maybe a beer. Actually, my parents arrive for a five-day visit in a matter of hours. Definitely a beer.