S, L and I went east to Limburg province and had a wonderful weekend at the home of S's lovely parents. We drank wine way too early, were probably way too loud, and wrote very little. I did find it amusing that around midnight one night we were all drinking water, given that we were apparently such a dreadfully bad lot. Even reprobates need water occasionally. (I should not really include L in our bad-lottery. She has only been tainted by association).
Today is 49 days until I leave. All the sevens.
It's far less until I leave work - just over two weeks. I keep telling my colleagues I'm leaving and they don't seem to believe it. It will only be when I remove the three stuffed bears, the tampons, the cutlery, and the large lump of patafix from my desk that they might really get it. In the meantime I'm still putting out small fires and preventing others from starting by peeing on them. The fires, not my colleagues.
Every time someone asks me if I have a job to go to, I get this slightly hysterical bubble in my stomach. I think part of me is actually enjoying this walking off into apparent oblivion.
No comments:
Post a Comment