From the brink, I return. A little weathered, a little worn
Spent the last five (5!) days sick as the proverbial dog. This included much hated things like being bed-ridden, Professor Farnsworth level weakness and becoming patient zero of the house. There was also some good things to come of it. Catching up on some reading, plowing through Lego Star Wars, giving the finger to work for the week and seeing the end of Portal finally.
So now, it's Sunday, not my fun day, but my Monday. I still hold some residual fallout from The Bug That Would Not Die. Some minor congestion and most non-triumphant is the lack of taste buds. Everything tastes like warmed over nails. Guess I should reschedule my reservations at Dorsia.
Saving the most tender of morsel for last, I have finally, after much delay and very little fanfare received my 60-day notice from my current place of employment. It's been a little over ten wonderfully mundane years, but come February of 2008, I will finally be on my way. It's a mixed bag, it's essentially what I want, but actually having the notice, the reality versus the theory, does come with some weight.
So the next two months, I plan to wear my short-timer's attitude on my sleeve. Not to say that I'm gonna be smoking in the boys room or sitting back with my feet on the desk while the core reaches critical mass, no no no. It just means that my not giving a fuck won't be as veiled as it has been for the last five years or so.
Cheers!
So now, it's Sunday, not my fun day, but my Monday. I still hold some residual fallout from The Bug That Would Not Die. Some minor congestion and most non-triumphant is the lack of taste buds. Everything tastes like warmed over nails. Guess I should reschedule my reservations at Dorsia.
Saving the most tender of morsel for last, I have finally, after much delay and very little fanfare received my 60-day notice from my current place of employment. It's been a little over ten wonderfully mundane years, but come February of 2008, I will finally be on my way. It's a mixed bag, it's essentially what I want, but actually having the notice, the reality versus the theory, does come with some weight.
So the next two months, I plan to wear my short-timer's attitude on my sleeve. Not to say that I'm gonna be smoking in the boys room or sitting back with my feet on the desk while the core reaches critical mass, no no no. It just means that my not giving a fuck won't be as veiled as it has been for the last five years or so.
Cheers!