Today I packed up my office. I separated recycling from shredding. I organized my email and I put a vacation message on my account that essentially says, "I don't work here anymore. Go bother someone else." My new voice mail recording says I'm a former not a present. I put stuff in bags. My goal was to be done today, but let's be honest here. I didn't make it. After 9 years on the job, an office accumulates a lot of crap. Even after TBF helped me schlep home a bunch of stuff this weekend, I have another hour or two of cleaning to go. I wouldn't be me if I wasn't running late.

It's a hard happy day. I am 100% certain that leaving my job is the right thing to do. It's time. But, letting go is tough. Not only am I letting go of a stable (if meager) income and great benefits, I'm releasing the security of place. Over the years, I thought about that every now and then when walking into my building in the morning. Someday I won't be here any more. I got teary when getting ready this morning, dragging my feet to head out the door, because I can't believe this nearly decade of my life is drawing to a close. Just a little more dusting and sorting to go, and it's a real goodbye.