I still feel very at peace about my decision to go. This is a record lately. Of time not spent feeling like shit, that is.
I still hate my job with a passion that grows stronger each day. I think I need to call in sick tomorrow. Knitting island, ahoy!
My head is weird and cyclical. It does the same things, over and over and over. Sometimes I wish that something new would pop right in there and change it up a bit.
So I think it's going to be a Friday. I will have worked my last day Thursday. He will leave for work, and I will pack up my stuff and call a cab. I will take my stuff to the post office in the cab and ship it off. Then I will come home and wait for him to get home from work. And then I will tell him.
Sound good? NOOOO, SOUNDS SCARY!!! FOOOOOOLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.
But it will be okay.
Mom says, "No matter what you tell him, or how you tell him, he is going to feel shit on. He will tell everyone what a nice guy he is and that you shit on him. That's what people like that do so they don't look like they shit on you."
FECAL OBSESSION. I (heart) shit.