Playing hookey isn't something I do very often, and I don't take it lightly. It's very painful for me to do, because I am a bit of a workaholic. However, it is for precisely that reason that I must do it from time to time. It keeps me from burning out completely.

Today was one of those times. I woke up dreading the day, as I so often do since taking this job. My husband (that darling!) convinced me to take the day off. Didn't matter that I wouldn't be paid for it, or that the 500 million things I had to do would be left undone - I was not to feel guilty for saving my sanity.

So we walked in the park. We went for coffee. I cried at strange moments, sometimes from guilt at not going to the office, other times at the sheer impotent rage I feel daily when thinking about my job. I am tired. My very soul is tired. Our office has more form-filling, red-tape and bureaucracy than the French government - and with less results. I am actively looking for a position elsewhere, but must remain where I am for the time being. As long as I am forced to work with childish, horrible people who want more to be drama queens than to do decent work, I will continue to play hookey whenever the need arises. If they want me to continue to show up and bust my ass to make up for those who are too busy having temper tantrums, they will live with my days off, and thank me once in a while for the work I'm doing.