Going to Work

I hate the drive to work. It's not the ten minute wait in the driveway waiting to get into traffic, its not the intolerably long lights, it's the thought of where I'm going that makes me morose. I haven't even gone to bed yet and the idea of what awaits me in the morning casts a pall over the night. It's not that it's hard or that I just hate work, what makes it such a prison is the long hours separated from my muse.