So, I know you guys have had a whole weekend to forget entirely about any of my earlier posts (or possibly the fact that I even exist), but try to keep up with me here…

Remember the job I mentioned here, here, and kinda-sorta here?

The boring one with the great coffee and gross lack of supervision?

The one I just got three weeks ago?

That job?

Well… I quit it yesterday.  Ha!

How could I do that, you ask? 

Well, I’d love to say there was a reason, but I just… I just don’t know what got into me. 

The last thing I remember was sitting at my desk and the woman in the next cubicle over was slurping her soup, and it was just so maddening to listen to the constant sluuurp, sluuurp, sluuurp that I didn’t even notice when my eye started twitching.  And, well, I guess I just sort of lost it after that… 

My memory of the incident’s pretty fuzzy, but the police reports say that I climbed up on my desk, took off one of my high heels and held it like a gun while making bullet noises—pshew pshew pshew!—at coworkers. 

And, for the record, apparently security guards are authorized to use brute force—fortunately, I’m wiggly like a greased piglet, so when they tried to tackle me, they only ended up being able to hold onto my feet.  Which, of course, just ended in an awkward (but kind of fun) situation where they wheelbarrowed me around the office for a minute or two.  Then I think I managed to latch onto the water cooler and pull it over before they dragged me, kicking and screaming, out of the building. 

Haha, kidding. 

But, seriously, how awesome would that have been?

Even if it didn’t happen like that exactly, rest assured, it did still happen.  I just chose to go the far more pathetic route of sweating profusely and groveling for their forgiveness in between repeated apologies.  (I’m easily guilted, which makes me wretched at break-ups of any kind.  Seriously, ask any of my ex-boyfriends. )

Ok, and I didn’t quit on the spot exactly as inform them in stuttering, broken English (I’m like an ESL student when I’m nervous) that I would not, in fact, be making any appearances—special guest or otherwise—in the office after early August.

So maybe it doesn’t make as entertaining a story as going out in a glorious blaze of psychotic, law-enforcement-induced fury, but still.  I did it.

The more pressing question than how I quit is probably why…

Well that, dear friends, will be revealed here very, very shortly.   Just bear with us a little bit longer. 

Suffice it to say, after years and years of complaining about mediocre desk jockey jobs, I’m making the conscious choice to try out something different. 

And who knows where it’ll lead?  I may very well end up at a desk job again (and, if so, please disregard this post, potential employer!), but I feel I owe it to myself to try something new and see what happens. 

And maybe I’ll have an adventure or two.  And maybe I’ll learn something about myself.  And maybe by the time I’m back from wherever I end up, I’ll be settled down and ready for that nice, comfy desk job.

Maybe.