You wake up thinking, "Good God -- morning," instead of, "Good morning, God."
You have identified your various bosses' footsteps, and start cringing whenever you hear a signature tap-tap-tap on the carpet behind you.
None of what really inspires, excites or pleases you has a thing to do with your paid job.
You start having fantasies, not about a dream career, but about the lowest-status job you'd be willing to accept. ("I could be a coffee barista..." "I could be a stock clerk down at the Food-o-rama...")
Domestic drudgery starts looking like an attractive alternative to your day job.
You surreptitiously clock-watch: "Three hours and I can go home...two hours and I can go home...half-hour and I can go home..."