I didn't quit today either. I sat and daydreamed about quitting and how I would spend the rest of my day, but it didn't happen. It won't be happening, and that is probably all well and good, as one should really quit in much nicer weather than this.
I pictured Rex at the playground or zoo with a small cotton candy-eating child on his shoulders and then looked out the window to watch the drizzle fall between me and the sad Antioch horizon, and I knew then that it was not to be. Also, I have no children and doubt that any of my child possessing acquaintances would let me borrow theirs.
Still, I have resolved that I will never again work with this particular client, and that is all that is keeping me sane and employed at the moment.
Actually, coming home and loading the Allman's Eat A Peach, Carol King's Tapestry, and The Best of Henry Mancini onto the Stack-O-Matic and then pouring myself a tall glass of pinot noir and drinking it like grape juice until my eye stopped twitching was a bit more effective in dispatching the foul odor of pointless work from my person.
Alcohol, I have found, will dispatch such things with vigor.