I quit my job a week ago.
I didn’t quit because I have another job, or because I didn’t like it there, or because I came into a small fortune, or joined a religious group that forbids working, or anything of that nature. No, I quit my job because I’ve been there for five years and all of a sudden it occurred to me that if I didn’t leave soon, I would grow old there. I have had a horror of being a lifer since my days as a waitress, when the old timers would laugh at us as we pretended to know how to smoke cigarettes on our break, and say, in their gravelly voices, “I remember when I was starting out. Long time ago now.” (Wistful gleam in their eyes.) “But those days are gone. Gone…” And then we’d all want to kill ourselves.
Anyway, the other reason that I quit my job is that I’m moving to New York. Yes, I have totally lost my mind. But don’t worry about it. It will either work out, or it won’t, but either way, this blog will be a lot more interesting for my readers.