Last Week

My last day was this past Friday, July 6. I worked the four days of the week, taking full advantage of being a government employee and getting paid for the Fourth of July.

They threw me a great party on Tuesday, July 3. Zel and I even got our very own 7-pound chocolate cake from Costco. (If you get the chance, I highly recommend picking one up—but make sure you have lots and lots of room in your tummy!) They gave me two lovely parting gifts—a gift certificate to a fancy restaurant and a denim shirt that has a small hand painted bunch of flowers on the front left side.

On Friday morning, I spent 2.5 hours with my arch-nemesis. Two and one-half hours. That's 150 minutes. That's a long effing time. It's about 2.5 hours too long. I ran the meeting, and took minutes (go ahead, call me a Rock Star). She knitted. The good news: we both still have our eyeballs.

Finally, 2.5 hours into the bullshit, I said, “Well, since were done and today is my last day, I intend to type up these minutes and I also have a lot of other things to do, so I'll see you all at a later date.” And I was off. But, I came out on top, because I knew it was the last time I had to deal with the bullshit.

Then I left my meeting and went down to the basement (don't get me started on the fact that the HEALTH DEPARTMENT is in the BASEMENT). I typed up the minutes and emailed them out to the people at the meeting, just like a good little solider.

When I was finished with that bullshit from the bullshit meeting, I packed and cleaned and filed and dusted. When it was all said and done, my office looked less like a tornado went through and more like an office. I impressed myself. My boss even made a comment about the cleanliness.

I only cried a couple of times: once when I took my boxes out to my truck, but only a little bit. And a second time when my boss gave me a big hug and said she is confident that I'm going to be a great Early Childhood Development Specialist.