What a Long Strange Trip it Was

Took a stab at talking about leaving my old job over at The Peanut Gallery today. Feel free to give it a read.

Every Day has a Snag

Sometimes it’s literal.

Today was my first day at my Big New Job. I planned my outfit the day I received the offer. I borrowed a purse from my mother to accompany said outfit. (How cool/sad is it that my elderly mother has better accessories than I do?) I watched the weather as I was getting ready this morning, and heard the weatherman say, “If it’s already sprinkling where you are, it’s going to be raining harder soon.”

As I stepped outside my building, I noticed it was sprinkling. A few minutes later, it really started to come down. And sideways. By the time I got to the subway, my feet were soaked, and I could wring out my hair. When I left the subway, it was even worse.

My hair was mostly dry by the time I had a new badge photo taken, but it wasn’t cute. The bottom half of my dress dried out sometime during lunch. It was a little after that time that I looked down and realized that I had two large runs in my pantyhose. They both started in the foot, curved up the ankle, and went all the way up the outside of my leg. Why, for the love of pagan holidays was I wearing hosiery? Well, it was the first day and I didn’t want to push the boundaries of casualness. Yah, ‘cause wearing nylons with giant visible runs makes such a better impression.

By the time I left the office, the rain had mostly cleared up. And then, walking home from the subway, my shoe fell off mid-stride. And before I knew what had happened, my practically-naked foot was on a wet New York City sidewalk, and then it was back inside my new red shoe. And now I will forever think of that shoe as contaminated.

Tomorrow, there will be no hose.

T-1

This is the end of an era. I’ve used that phrase before for lesser things, but this time it’s true. Tomorrow will be my last day with my employer of the last 12 years. I’m prone to nostalgia anyway, so this week has me feeling quite cognizant of everything that’s about to change. There are little things like wondering when I’ll ever be on 125th Street again; and big things, like the ever-growing recognition that I am about to be the new kid in a way I haven’t been since I was actually a kid. Then there are a lot of things in between.

In many ways I consider myself change averse; I am drawn to a life of consistency. But as much as I feel that, I can’t stop this continuing urge I have to adjust my life in ways big and small.

Dancing Like My Mother

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