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Slave to love

I must be some kind of twisted moron. I seem to refuse to take days off. Unless I'm sick as a dog, I'll go to work. The last time I took any time off was when I went home for lunch and I felt nauseous and exhausted, so I didn't go back to work and slept for the entire afternoon and into the evening. It's not like I'm a super-important cog in the machinery known as Cigital. I have almost 5 work weeks of vacation stored up. Yet I'll refuse to just take a day off, even if the weather's gorgeous. Even if I've got time to plan ahead for it, it'll take a lot of coaxing to get me to do it. I'm not sure if I'm, like, afraid that I'll look like a giant slacker for actually taking some time off or what. It's freaky. It'd make you think I love my job and want to father its children. Which I don't.

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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on September 5, 2001 5:20 PM.

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