17 days and counting!

No. I have not given my two-weeks notice. Why, you ask? Because the office manager is in the hospital, which she has been for the past two days. Just my luck! I'm getting antsy about telling them. At this point, I no longer care if they tell me to just leave (which I'm hoping they do not) because I'm really sick of this. Of course we all knew I was over working in the law field about a year ago but now, with the moving date being a little over 2 weeks away, I don’t care. All I want to do is start packing.

It was strange. Last night, Fred and I went to Grits to drop off money for the keg for the party this weekend (yes, there will be a keg. You. should. be. there!) and I told him, this time next month I will be sitting in a bar in New York somewhere. WoW- that’s a powerful thought. . . which also got me thinking. Everyone keeps asking “How long are you going to be there?” Well. hello, genius. I'm having a GOING AWAY PARTY, not an I'm-visiting-a-new-city party. I don’t have any plans to move back to the south. In my heart, I don’t think I'm coming back. Don’t you people know anything about me? Once I set my mind to something, I do it. And at the moment, my mind is set to grow old as a cranky New Yorker, only coming back to New Orleans to visit.

There is so much to do, just thinking about it gives me a mini-panic attack. I need next week to be over so I can start organizing. Plus, I'm tired. I'm tired of everyday resembling the last and wasting away my life until I'm too old and I look back with regret. Its time for a change.