Failing at quitting

I’ve really got to work on my break-up skills.

I probably won’t head over to Japan probably until after the New Year as their school year starts in April, so I’m looking at just heading home whenever I wrap things up here to hang out with my folks through the holidays.  With Korea out of the picture, and no more firm target date to meet, my end date at work has become rather fuzzy and things have started to drag on quite a bit. I’m in a strange purgatory where I have moved out of my home but can’t go on to my next destination.  I’ve quit, but can’t leave.  I’ve died, but haven’t made it to heaven.

I’m so anxious to be the perfect employee and exit with a halo over my head and memories in my bosses’ minds of how wonderful I was in every way.  That means finding a capable person to take over for me so that they have a smooth transition, and my getting on with my life doesn’t somehow inconvenience them.  No one seems to be good enough, so I keep pushing back my leave date, further and further.  I feel like we’ve talked to everyone who comes close to meeting all the criteria for this position (because there are a LOT of VERY specific criteria for this position), and there’s just no one out there right now who my boss is going to fall in love with.  We found one great, great girl – and she took a job teaching instead.  It is beginning to feel like we will never find someone and I will never get to leave unless I just say screw it, I’m outta here and you’re on your own!

I was going to deliver that pronouncement yesterday and give them 2 weeks of notice.  But instead, I didn’t.

Nowadays, when I daydream, instead of thinking about some guy, or traveling the world, or becoming rich and famous, I fantasize about opening this one bottle of Dom Perignon champagne on the night of my going away party.  It was a New Year’s gift that I’ve held onto for 5 years – not ever having had a celebration that was momentous enough to warrant opening it…until now.  I envision carrying it around with me at my party, drinking straight from the bottle, posing for pictures with it.  I imagine that picture as my facebook profile pic – me, smiling deliriously, with a champagne bottle pressed against my face like a very dear friend.

It will be glorious.


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