14 February 2009

Woah yeah, woah no!


Things began to pick up in late October, not just because of the glut of fall holidays (Halloween and Thanksgiving, my bi-fecta of awesome). The Election! Oh, the election. All of our hopes confirmed, the grand catharsis. The relief, the release of tension. The weight, almost literal, lifted. The realization that I'd felt so bad for so long and I didn't have to have that low simmer on anymore. Then, in early December, another switch flipped, and I was suddenly rushing into a new job, a new city, a new life. And, to paraphrase an album I like very much, everything that happened happened that day.

This is the short version, clearly. The long version starts on December 15 and doesn't stop until, well, not even now. On December 8 and 10, I interviewed on the phone. On December 13, I woke up in my own bed for what would be the last time for many weeks. On December 15 I interviewed in person. On December 17 I interviewed in person in New York City. On December 18, I flew almost all the way home for the winter holiday. On December 19 at 2 AM, I arrived at home in a rental carload of strangers from my cancelled final flight leg. On December 19 at 11 AM, I was offered and accepted a new job. On December 20th, I booked tickets to California for a new job work trip. On December 22, in my jammies and in front of the fireplace at my parents' house, I gave a complicated "three" weeks notice. On December 28, I flew back to Bostonland. I worked for My Now Former Big Corporate Employer for three days. I had a calm but bewildered New Year, portentious in every way: this, friends, is A Very New Year. January 1: officially on the payroll at My Moderately Sized Independent Employer. January 4: fly to California for "our" sales meeting, whereat I say things like "oh, I'm new. What day is it now? Yes, this is my second day on the job." January 10: fly home. January 12-16: my final week at My Now Former Big Corporate Employer. January 16: I take the bus to New York City, and I do not intend to leave without a lease; on Jan. 17, I have an apartment. On Jan. 19, I begin training for my new job with my new boss, who comes up to Bostonland. On Jan. 23, I rent a truck. On Jan. 24, I wake up at "home" and head for "home": we load the truck with about 1/3 of the Rocket Household possessions and move, at least a little, to New York. On Jan. 26, I start my new job, just over one month from sitting in front of the fireplace with my mom and dad and talking about how truly insane the next four weeks would have to be.

I've been working for three weeks, and I work from about 8 in the morning to around midnight. This is exceptional and will not be the norm. But, as I've proven over and over in the past two months, I am the kind of lady who Does What Has To Be Done. The rest of the Rocket Household and attendant possessions arrive Feb. 28 in a second rented truck.

So you'll understand, dear reader, if I have no idea what day it is.

Except that it's Valentine's Day. I am drinking Pinot Noir and listening to Lou Reed. Happy Valentine's Day!

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