Do you know what I did all day today?
I made copies. I collated packets of information. I made sure those packets of information were paperclipped together. I put those packets of information into mailboxes and recorded the numbers on the packets so I knew which packet went to who.
One hundred and forty five days.
If I'm lucky, I only have to put up with 130 more 'working' days. 93 days if you don't count weekends.
I'm actually waking up later and later each morning because I just don't give a shit what time I get to work. No one notices that I'm late, so does it matter? If a time clock gets punched in the forest and there's no boss around to hear it, are you really late?
I'm YEARNING to tell people that I'm leaving. I want them to know. I want them to be as excited for me as the people in Dallas were. Do you know how many people offered to help me find a new job while I was in Dallas? Five. Five people with huge rolodexes full of names. And every one of those five people was TOTALLY psyched at the fact that I wanted to make a change. And everyone who didn't have 'contacts' for me? They were TOTALLY psyched for me too.
Knowing that it's just a matter of time is probably making the crap seem even worse than it is, of course.
I realize this.
And I apologize to those of you who get caught in my psychotic shit flinging. Maybe that's what I'll name my theater "Crazy Shit Flinging Monkey Improv Theater."
CSFMIT... too many letters for a good acronym