A job that slowly kills you

Usually, when the subject is broached, I tend to suggest that work for me is unimportant, secondary, almost peripheral. But, as it turns out, I derive a truckload of my emotional state of mind from my succes, or lack thereof, at the workplace. Here I am, happy as a bird because someone offered to get me some screws (not to get me screwed, mind you) for my scribing setup. Maybe it was the general kindness I was met with, but I'm pretty sure that the actual advances I am making are making me feel ... good. Thanks to this, I may then be one significant step closer to solving some problems.