Monday night. 9:15 p.m.
After nearly a month of 60+ hour work weeks and putting in an absolutely brutal day at work, I'd hoped to get home for a relaxing evening before packing for my 6:30 a.m. flight the next morning. I was at work. I was tired. It didn't look like I'd be leaving any time soon.
Bossman: So, how are you doing? Hanging in there okay?
Me: I'm beginning to suspect that I have horribly wronged you in a past life and, as a result, you are trying to kill me in this one.
Fortunately, my boss appreciates my sense of humor.