plastic pants...

I have printed out calendars before, marking off the months, weeks and days before I quit my dead-end marketing job, but now that it's LESS than a month away, I am, as the children like to say, "pooing my pants."

Perhaps my first accident came when I figured out on paper that I would be taking a $29,000 pay cut. Yes, that was a big one; requiring an ongoing change of the undergarments. I would have had to put my plastic play pants on had I decided to go to the pool...

The next stinky accident came to pass because I couldn't transfer on the day I wanted, wreaking all kinds of havoc in my finally-got-this-schedule-squared-away mindset I had finally achieved. No, nothing is easy. I had to massage, finagle, and rebuild all of that--all over again. This morning it is mostly settled thankfully.

More smelly events are in the future, as when I walk out the door on Aug. 11 and effectively end my 18-year marketing career. I won't be an editor in the professional sense anymore. I won't get to play with the company's intranet, or blow ridiculous amounts of film trying to make boring events look exciting.

I won't get to be our online "Dear Abbeee" anymore (I managed an online Q&A for our company). I will really miss that. Before I started that forum I was a stern defender of the stance, "There are NO stupid questions." I was wrong. Dead wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. There ARE stupid questions. Really, really, really stupid questions. It was fun to read them and even more fun to try to answer them.

I won't get to play with my graphics program anymore to correct all the hideous photographs other marketing folks send me for the company-wide newsletter. But I won't miss that newsletter. Good riddance. I wash my hands of thee...blech. Pooey.

More on all that ongoing crap later. I suddenly ran out of blog-steam.