Like a lot of women in the world, I have a job. Every morning, I drag myself out of bed and surrender to the mind-melding tedium of an office-based existence. Just when I think I can’t stand it any longer, when it seems I will be sucked into a vortex of debilitating monotony and it feels like I have read everything on the internet, it’s the weekend. Then I get to begin the whole cycle again on Monday morning, crying and gnashing my teeth in resentment at the women who fought so that women could have the right to be equally bored in offices with the men. At the end of each month I am rewarded for my efforts with ...