You get up early with plenty of time to get ready for work, but you end up lying awake in bed for hours debating the merits of going to work at all.
You get dressed thinking that going to work is a waste of clean and nice clothes.
You linger over breakfast while watching re-runs of old Disney cartoons thinking to yourself that there is nothing better you'd rather do.
You consider going past every u-turn on your way to work as a milestone, congratulating yourself at the strength of your conviction by not asking the cab driver to turn around and take you back home.
You manage to make it to work but you're late and you don't care.
You spend the first hour of your working day willing yourself to start something... anything. You suddenly think of errands you don't really have to do but feel like you suddenly HAVE TO do them.
You make it back to your workstation and manage to start working your way through the emails in your inbox.
You reply only to the people you like working with (and you thank God everyday for still giving you people like them). It doesn't matter how urgent other people's emails are.
You lie to get yourself out of having lunch with other people.
The afternoon doesn't get much better. You work but end up not finishing what you started.
You slouch in your seat while staring blankly at your monitor.
You check the clock every minute, counting down to the time you can leave... on the dot.
In spite of the many logical reasons why you know it will never happen, becoming a housewife is becoming an attractive option.
You make it home and it makes you want to cry thinking of tomorrow.