Up, Bustle & Out

*deep breath*

I’m quitting my job tomorrow. There’s nothing wrong with my job, it’s a perfectly lovely job, and despite a thousand challenges that would likely make you laugh out loud if I told you about them, I have enjoyed (almost) every minute of it. I loved being a journalist, and I made some great relationships with people in the community, and with so many of my coworkers that on many levels, I am heartbroken to leave, I really am.

Well, doesn’t that sound cheesy and contrived, eh? But I really do mean it.

Honestly, I’m telling you this because if I write it down here, I will actually have to follow through and do it. But the thing is, I HAVE to do it because in as little as three weeks — maybe more, I don’t know — we won’t be living in the state of Florida anymore.

!!!!!!

I KNOW.

The other thing — the bad thing, the only very bad thing — is that where we’re going, there is no Target. NO TARGET. Did you hear me? THERE IS NO TARGET. NONE. THE CLOSEST TARGET IS IN ANOTHER STATE.

Target aficionados may realize that this means we’re either moving to Vermont or Alaska, and if you had to guess, which would you pick?

I like daylight, thank you very much, so Alaska is out. Which means, that’s right, we’re moving to Vermont. I don’t know anyone in Vermont except my (potential) future landlords and I’ve never even set foot outside of a vehicle in the town we’re moving to, though I am assured it’s lovely by my beloved (hey, um, anyone ever been to Middlebury? BECAUSE I REALLY HAVEN’T). This has been in the works since just after Christmas, when we almost killed ourselves on Route 93 in New Hampshire, and I am hopeful, if petrified, that our journey to the Green Mountain state will be better than the interview tour.

The reason for this move is oh-so-very Tammy Wynette in that Adam got a killer job that was too good to turn down and, as is well known to longtime readers, we’ve been itching to get out of Florida virtually since we moved here. And it’s New England, and New England is our home, it really is. I would have liked to have made this work, but … well, no. At some point I’ll do a series on Florida and its massive ills lurking around every corner, but for now, I’ll leave it at a desire to just go home.

But even if we didn’t love it, I’d make him take the job, because it’s what he wants and it’s good and it’s so perfectly him. And if you might let me be sappy for one brief second, I have to tell you that I am so over the top proud of him, I’m nearly busting out of my skin. And further, he’s working so much that there isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that we’d be able to get the hell out of here without me being a lady of leisure. Well, if you count “lady of leisure” as “lady of packing and moving,” that is. So my time as a working woman in Florida officially ends here.

Honestly, I’m scared and excited and … well, everything you would expect. I’m scared because I’m trying to finalize a tenant AND finalize a place in Vermont and get a mover and quit my job and OH MY GOD, I’m trying to do a lot. And a lot of it might fall through and put us back to square one, but I won’t be able to get any of it done if two of us are working 18-hour days. So I could be a LoL for three weeks, or I could be a LoL for four months. No one really knows. But I am trying to stay positive, and the first step is talking about it like it’s real.

This has gone on too long, really, and I’m sorry. To answer the question I’ve asked myself a thousand times: what the hell am I going to do in small-town Vermont? The answer is that I simply don’t know. I’m going to freelance for a while, surely, and I’m going to see what’s out there. I may end up working in a ham store or buying rennets by the truckload to cure my own cheese in pigs’ assholes, you never know. I could, too, open up a maple syrup store or something, because I’m sure Vermont doesn’t have enough of those. Or I could go back to corporate America in whatever form it exists in Vermont. The world, it would seem, is my cheese shop to explore and mess around in.

And that’s that. And if you know anyone in Vermont, give me a holler, because I sure as hell don’t. But you know what one of the best parts of blogging is? I get to take you all with me, no matter where I go.

Happy Wednesday! And for the love of God, I could use any happy thoughts you have to pull all of this off, dear Jesus. I didn’t mention it before, but that’s part of why I wanted to write about it, because as lame ass as it sounds, I’m sure that the Internet’s good luck thoughts, they totally help (if you’re wondering where to FOCUS those thoughts, there’s that whole renter thing, as well as the movers we have coming to estimate the cost of moving our worldly possessions tomorrow. And you know, the whole QUITTING MY JOB THING. OMFG, I feel like throwing up.)

And finally, George Stephanopoulos has totally had Botox, yes? Is it me?

Again, happy Wednesday.

*faints*

*Emerald Alley. It says it’s some kind of theme for “Indian Morning” whatever that is. All I know is that it is awesome, and I don’t even know how I got it.

78 comments February 5th, 2008