Ten Days In

Over the past year I was getting up at an insane hour of the morning–I think you’d agree that two-fifteen a.m. is insane–to write or edit or piddle around, usually the latter.  Work started at six, and it was almost inevitable that by six-thirty I’d be yawning my head off and resisting the urge to lean back in my comfortable high-backed chair for a quick nap.

I knew that I would still be waking up at the crack of ungodly for a while after my farewell to Ginormocorp.  So there I was last Monday, in my little reading/work nook in my bedroom, being productive for once and tapping away at my laptop when the yawns and heavy eyelids came.  I tried to resist … until I realized that I didn’t have to any longer.  So I shut everything down, turned off the lamp, and went back to bed.  I woke up a couple of hours later from a quite nice dream.

It was GLORIOUS.

The naps on demand, however, have been interspersed with packing, decluttering and phone calls.  I have tossed or given away roughly ninety percent of my clothing.  I have touched base with our future HOA about gate access and keys to the pool.  I have changed the address on pretty much all of our various accounts and set up auto-pay where I could.  We’ve made just about our final arrangements with the movers.

But Ginormocorp is still rearing its ugly head.  In my last meeting with HR, I was told that my retention bonus would be mailed directly from the Richmond office, which is a mere two and a half miles from Current House Mandalay, the day after I would leave.  Um, no.  It came from the payroll department in Ohio last Wednesday, sent next day air.  This makes me nervous for my severance check.  I leave for Florida on Wednesday morning.  Mr. Mandalay will leave the following day.  While the rational voice in my head tells me that the worst case scenario will be Mr. Mandalay bringing the check down to Florida, the non-rational voice in my head dreads having to track down someone at Ginormocorp and telling them to either stop payment on the check or redirect it.  I don’t want a five-figure check floating around.  I don’t like people fucking with my money, it’s the Scot in me.

I do feel better, though.  I sleep through the night unless I have too much seltzer before bed, and I fall asleep quickly.  I no longer have columns of figures running though my head like the screen in The Matrix.  I’m making good food choices.  The weather has been lovely here in Richmond so walks are enjoyable.  And by the end of this week I’ll be in our new home, hopefully armed with a pool key and with my severance check safely banked.

Things are good.