On Sunday there is a morning and that’s when I decide to wake up.
Then I meet up with Donnell because he wants us to go and buy a present in Selfridges and then we go and buy a present in Selfridges and as we walk past the Ralph Lauren department I glance over and see at least 34 items I would like to own, so I tell Donnell that I can’t look, I won’t look in there, the temptation is too big and Donnell tells me that he doesn’t understand this obsession with that look and it just seems boring. But I’m not offended by this, I’ve learnt to deal with hits on a daily basis, and at the end of the day this comes from a person whose idea of style is slitting every top down to the belly button.
Then we go to the gym where I do arms and abs and Donnell sits there and drinks a cup of tea, and then I go home.
On Sunday night I’m stressed out about the week ahead at work, but not as stressed out as usual, because on Monday morning I’m giving in my notice. This calms me down a bit, because it gives the illusion that the end is near, there is light at the end of the tunnel, there IS a way out. Even if this way out leads to a free fall from the edge of a cliff, i.e. unemployment, uncertainty about the future, no…more…regular…income.
At this point I decide to take this back, handing in my notice does not calm me down one bit, why the hell should it.
Anyway, then Monday morning comes, like every Monday morning comes, and then I’m in the small meeting room telling my boss that I’d like to leave.
Later in the day, at the weekly team meeting, A Girl and I are preparing for the announcement of my resignation. It’s been a few weeks now since we decided that next time somebody quits and they announce it in the team meeting, A Girl will drop her pen as a demonstration of shock, and I will gasp out loud. Not very loud mind you, just audibly.
It doesn’t matter that it’s my resignation that’s announced, I am still gasping and A Girl is still dropping her pen in shock.
Then we go in the meeting, there is no announcement, we take this slap in the face, we go back to our desks.
Finally on Monday, Pam sends me an email asking for ideas of something sentimental that she could leave her boyfriend while she’s away traveling. I don’t know exactly why she decides to send this email to me, somebody who last emoted in October 2001, but I’m going to guess it’s an experiment to see if I will cease to operate after a series of sparks and small explosions. Perhaps it’s like testing your old keyboard by pouring a glass of water over it just to watch it combust.
And this is a conversation that goes like this:
Pam: You have any ideas of some sentimental to leave with ___ while I’m away?
Me: Leave him your pillow (on top of his face after you smother him with it)Finally, here are some pictures that a blog reader who recognised me took when I was at Brighton a couple of weeks ago, and then thought he’d email them to me as well. Why not.