If I called Monday morning and said I was done, I'd have another job by the end of the month. Meanwhile, "boss" would be royally friend*ed as he scrambles to find yet another qualified replacement that he hasn't been able to find for a retiree for over a year and a half and gets into an even deeper backlog of work and pisses off even more clients. Careful who you consider whose bitch.It's okay babe. I know you don't even hear it, but you're just echoing the 'common sense' of capital. If I have little love for the grind, I have even less for 'progress' that makes us peons redundant ... and therefore all the more dependent on table scraps.