I love my Real Job(tm). Really, I do. Except for today. Or, this week/month in general. It's just terminally frustrating to realize that the stupid people all get paid more than I do.
But what frustrates me the most is that my Real Job(tm) Frustration effectively ends any creative impulse I might have been having. I can't write, I can't even clear my head enough to mentally plot out scenes. I just stare at the blinking cursor and keep thinking how I want to throttle someone in another city.
It's days like this that I want to drink heavily.