The.End.

The.End.

So. Today, it was all over. 14 years at my employer and we are “separated.” As excited as I am to move all of that crap to the “stuff that’s not my problem” column, it was bittersweet- like huge. You know all of that minutiae that has to be done?- turn in computer et al, close out files, change voice mail (Hi- I don’t work here anymore, so you have obviously reached the WRONG number), say goodbye, and walk out for the LAST time- everything is the LAST time…LAST time I’ll use this bathroom, LAST time I’ll check my mailbox, LAST time I’ll walk down this hallway, LAST time I’ll eat downstairs in the cafeteria with work peeps (poor Devin, the only testosterone there most days……..)” it’s all just so strange. When I shared the news of the move with my boss, Susan, a few months ago, she reminded me about writing my resignation letter- RESIGNATION LETTER??? I’d never written one before….clickety click Google—-“Resignation letter examples”. First real step to it being a real change of life’s direction. So tonight, I am sitting in my favorite room of the house- the screened porch with the Meems (whom I have totally ruined and has no regard for stuff that humans sit on, and stuff that dogs sit on- it’s ALL stuff that Mimi sits on… sorry babe!) and sipping on some white wine and thinking about all of the things I have loved so much about my work. I wouldn’t trade it for the world (ok, well maybe for no more homeless dachshunds…) but other than that…. nah. I am ready for Sydney, and rediscovery and adventure and having to figure stuff out and not knowing where we are, and being afraid of sharks and the dogs having to be away for 30 days in quarantine and as hubs calls it~ CHAPTER 2. I have NO IDEA what I’ll do next. And that, my friends, is my favorite unread chapter yet. Post THAT on Goodreads- yah!

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Under Contract!

Under Contract!

Well dern. After like, 6 days, the house is SOLD. Boom, just like that. I mean, I knew it was a good house. Its been food for the soul to hubs and I. We’ve hosted MANY a party, a precious baby shower, a 40th birthday for a dear dear friend, an anniversary party, LOST viewing parties, and countless impromptu dinners- it’s a sweet little home full of love. The new people will love it just as much (maybe….) He’s a historian at a major university in Atlanta, and she is an analyst for a power company. My wonderful agent is planning a cocktail party for us after all that needs to be done is done. I’s dotted and T’s crossed on the legal line and all that……the fat lady must sing…in this case- our fat lady is the closing attorney. I want to be able to tell them about the garter snakes in the yard, and the possum momma and baby that walk the fence like a tightrope, the birds that bathe in the fountain, the way you can lift the new window screens and water the window boxes from inside (yes, you are welcome…) about Trixie, one of the many neighborhood mousers that likes to lay on the back deck on the red cushion, how the mail always comes by 10am sharp, that you have to stay on top of Richard to get the bushes trimmed the right way…..but alas. It won’t be my house anymore. Or maybe it always will be- always will have this tiny piece of me in it- It’s almost 100 years old- there are a a lot of us here- the past ghosts of the inhabitants who have been lucky enough to call it home. We, are under contract.