  Well all right,  so a friend just got an email that should probably have just been typed here,  but .  well,  I check my email first thing when I get home,  so .
 she got the whole story.  Ninety- five percent of the time I love my job. nbsp;  That is about the percentage of the time my boss doesn't bother me;  heck,
 sometimes we even get along. nbsp;  But .  the other five percent of the time,  it's sheer hell. nbsp;
 He's sheer hell. nbsp;  Not a devil,  although with his increasingly right wing political bent he might be one of those as well,  but .  dealing with him when he has something bugging him is ghastly.
 It doesn't matter that I know I've done nothing wrong. nbsp;  It doesn't matter that I have a plan to get well ahead with my work before I leave on vacation two weeks from tomorrow,  and that I am executing that plan just fine. nbsp;  None of that matters when he has decided he is going to be miserable about stuff.
nbsp;  I should have taken it as a warning when people told me that on Monday they heard my coworker yelling at him ( she can do that;  she's the only one who can,  but she's really,  really good at it so that's fine)
 Then I couldn't even have a little phone conversation with Rose because the atmosphere was thick with his general displeasure at something nameless but looming somehow over my head. nbsp;  I think it was because the above mentioned coworker was working at home;  my other coworker is off on vacation;  and there I was. nbsp;
 Yep;  just me,  the only shmuck caught in the office on this day of his bleak mood.  Vent,  vent,  vent,
nbsp;  Bitch,  moan,  complain. nbsp;  I can't wait for these two weeks to be over.
