I gave my employer my two-week notice. Just like that. Sort of like, "Hey, I like your tie. Oh, and I quit. Thanks in advance for understanding."
I feel as though I should be feeling more liberated. I think I've dreamed of this moment since Day No. 32 of two-and-a-half years. But I'm not quite liberated. Instead, I'm sort of, "Huh. So now I have to do all of this work in 10 days rather than two months."
And then I have to have awkward conversations, and rationalize the $27.50 I just spent on a Land's End fleece with our company logo embroidered on the front.
There is no job lined up. Not even an exact place to live. I should be more worried about that than I am. But instead I think, "In two weeks I don't have to work." And that might be oh-so-temporary, but I think I've been dreaming of that life since I was 16 and started my first job at Subway. I quit in six days, just to give you an idea of my work ethic.
If you're reading this and in a huff because you had to learn this news on a blog, don't worry. You're all learning together. See? Isn't this fun? One person knows, but that's because she's my person. And she had to be told because she needs to be able to cry publicly about it. So I guess it's public now.
I didn't include the part about moving away and being without regular Internet access for a month and living temporarily separate from The Cats, but we take baby steps around here, people.