Turn Out The Lights, The Party's Over

Yesterday, my last day at work gave form and substance to T.S. Eliot's proclamation, "This is how the world ends/Not with a bang but a whimper." Without going into imprudent detail in this quasi-public forum, just in that one day I was given ample reminders of just why it is that I'm leaving this job. Ironically, it cleansed me of any impulse I may have had to be sentimental in my departure. Managerial incompetence and arrogance: the no tears formula!

The first half of my day was spent finishing up actual work; the latter half was spent writing memos about where all the bodies are buried and cleaning out what remained of my things. Surprisingly, I was utterly exhausted by evening, finally falling asleep in the middle of Survivorman at 9:30 after nodding off briefly before the kids went to bed two hours earlier. Since the tension of the last many months have conditioned me to about five hours of sleep, I got up at five this morning, an unemployed man.

Who has a tee time at 7. Onward and upward!