Would I rather be hot and dirty?

I don't know. I've had many, many jobs. Some were menial, others quite cerebral. I've been everything from kitchen scut to a university instructor on tenure track. So I've had a lot of work experience. Every job had its bad aspects, from dangerous conditions to nervous breakdown-inducing stress. I don't think I complained as much about any of those jobs as I do about the one I have now. It's sitting on my ass in my own climate-controlled apartment, wearing comfortable clothes, doing the same simple tasks over and over again. This should be the freaking ideal dream job! I'm actually starting to dislike myself for not being satisfied with it. If I were someone else, I'd slap me silly and talk about how grateful I should be. I'm so sorry to keep harping on it, but I feel like I'm smothering.

Every job, all work done for pay, is soul-killing in some way. That's why we have to be bribed with money to do it. I've always said that I could do anything if I had to do it, at least for a defined period of time. Open-ended, that's not so sure, but give it a beginning and an end and I could gut it out. That's what I've said, but now that the rubber is meeting the road, I'm whining over nothing and wriggling like a worm on hot pavement. Am I permanently impaired? Have I become an infant due to my illness? Or is this just an ugly streak of laziness rearing its head?

I have so little energy. I'm spending a great deal of what I do have on this job. But I can't bring myself to work more than the scheduled time, even when they are begging for jump-ons and saying that overtime is approved. This is my chance to make as much money as possible, because after April this job is gone. Yet it is a slow, grinding mess to get through every hour.

I am ashamed of myself for struggling with this. What would it take to satisfy me? Why on earth am I bitching about a great opportunity at a legitimate work-from-home job? Everyone says that they are proud of me because I am working again. I don't want to let anyone down. I'm going to do this job, all the way through April. I will do it because that's what adults do. They do things they don't want to do so that they can have lives that work. A life with no work is a life that's not working. I've been there and done that and got really sick of it.

I have been talking about wanting to be part of the real world. Well here's my chance, and I am not going to blow it. I will put my head down and deal with it, no matter how uncomfortable I am. Discomfort is better than pain, and right now, not working would be pain.So it's time to be a big girl and find ways to cope with the boredom and loneliness, the angry venting people, the callers in distress, the aged and confused, the terminally stupid, the demanding standards and the constant awareness that everything you are saying is being recorded. Someone is eventually going to pull a recording of one of my calls, and the judgement they make could affect whether or not I even have a job. There may not be many valid reasons to dislike my job, but the constant fear of getting QA'd by the IRS is one.

But enough of this. It's late, and it's been a good day. Captain Husband and I were able to catch a matinee of the Green Hornet; it was a somewhat silly action flick that was enjoyable. The main character was an ass, but Kato was a sexy little devil. Then we had $5 pizza and had a quiet evening at home, doing whatever we wanted on computer. So I have got no room to fuss, I've been very blessed.