Today is Tuesday. I didn´t go to work. Yesterday was Monday. I didn´t go either. Going to work is the thing that hangs upon my head like a knife every morning. So good not to go, even when sometimes being there is actually somewhat good. But the business of going involves 70 km of highway on a tourism bus, then waking up on time to get off before the last stop to take an urban bus, then getting to the metrobus station and ride the red thing for eight stations and then take another urban bus. Then take the elevator. Then ride the idle small talk wave. Ugh.



Today I took neither, nor slept in neither. Instead of doing the whole trip to be there (one floor down from the general director´s office in case he suddenly needs some substance to add to his hot air-filled interviews) I called my boss´ secretary at 10 am, from my bed, clad in ninja black pajamas. I didn´t apologize nor explain or even informed her that I was not going to be seen there today. That part was good.



As for the whole not-going-to-work day, well, it wasn´t spectacularly great. Kind of sad that not going to work isn´t the recipe for instant, raging happiness. Or not anymore.
Yeah, ok, I know. The recipe is to DO STUFF. Go and DO what you can´t wait to tell your friends about. But sleep well first. Where is my Pluterday?