Almost nine months ago, I quit my job. I had agonized about doing it for weeks, and then, when I finally told my boss that I was going to grad school, I almost threw up on my shoes. And then he offered me a part-time job and la-de-dah, everythng was lovely.
Except than Bart got a job which he needed to, you know, drive to and I had to start riding my bike to work. The novelty of that wore off after a week.
And then I discovered that the religion class I need to take to keep my coveted parking spot at school did not align with my classes at all and I’d need to spend an additional day on campus to take that class which took me down to two days a week I could work.
On Friday, I got a call from an on-campus job I applied to earlier last week asking if I could come in and interview. I said I couldn’t until Tuesday so they scheduled a phone interview for later that day.
The interview took about 9 minutes and at the end they offered me the job. And a few hours later, I accepted.
I’ll be able to go to school with Bart every day, work out in the lovely (paid for by my astronomical school fees) gym, take any classes I want, go to practically every school event I’m interested in, and make almost as much as I do now.
All of which is to say that on Monday, I had to spend the whole day with my legs shaking, waiting for my boss to be in, so I could go say I was quitting again.
I have five days left, after today, and I will not be at all sad to ride my bike home for the last time.