Lately when my alarm clock has been ringing to wake me I find that I pull the covers back, pull myself up off of my tummy, look over at the alarm blaring at me from across the room and say to myself, “That a$$hole!”Â
No, I’m not calling the alarm an a$$hole, I’m actually calling myself the a$$hole for having set the alarm that wakes me up to get ready for an unfulfilling day at a job that feels as though it is a hacksaw cutting through my brain, leaving a trail of an endless workflow of boredom in its wake.