It’s my last day at the dreaded job. See here for more on why it’s not my favoritest place to be for 8 hours a day. So, I’m pretty excited, but still have to go to this staff meeting. Whereupon, the bosses make an announcement that it’s a sad day because I’m leaving, which is an awfully nice sentiment. The big head boss-man even said the following:
“Don’t stray too far from the mothership...tell [the new job] you may need to come back to your roots.”
My job is a mothership, and better yet, a mothership in which I have roots. That’s some imagery. Plus, they want me to come back! Do you hear that? Come back to the job that I have publicly loathed and disdained for weeks on end. That’s how much I rock. Not that I would necessarily want to (though I LOVE most of the people I work with), but I could.
On a less happy note, I am currently in limbo with an undiagnosed “medical condition.” That phrase sounds so horrid and scary, but that’s what they call it. It’s making me gain weight at a rate probably only matched by a pregnant blue whale. And I’m just guessing, but they must blow up pretty heavy pretty quick, right? Either way, you get the idea.
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