Today was my last day working at the library. I gave my notice two weeks ago, and suddenly my final day was upon me, and like any other noteworthy day, it just slipped by in time’s silent, relentless way of going. So tomorrow I won’t be going to work, but of course, I’ll still be working.
Why did I quit?
In an age when any job—especially a halfway decent job—is a blessing, how could I quit? I generally like going to work. It could be a lot worse. But I’m tired of Jay hating the weekends that never quite arrive with our tag-team parenting schedule. And I’m tired of it too. And I’m tired of staying up late to get things done. I’m just tired. I’ll spare all y’all the Marxist-feminist analysis of what all’s wrong with how work gets doled out in our fair land. I just want to feel less exhausted and more connected with my family.
I’ll miss my friends at the library, and the camaraderie that comes with serving a diverse population. I’ll miss the variety of the job. But I won’t miss the challenges that come with serving a diverse population. And I won’t miss the mundane aspects of the job. Same as in most jobs, I guess.
I’d love to say I have big plans for Life, Part III: After the Library, but really, I don’t. First order of business: get some sleep. Second: enjoy a weekend, for crying out loud. Third: maybe go to the library.