I love the smell of unemployment in the morning

I wanted to start documenting my sabbatical first thing this morning, but I got a little sidetracked.

First I text the following message to my now former coworker at about 7:15 a.m:

Have fun at work loser!

She immediately responded with:

Thanks butthead, now go back to bed.

This is the same poor girl, who as my last week wore on and it became increasingly clear that there were more than a few things I'd be unable to wrap up in time, will now be buried under a mound of work for the next 1,762 years.

Then I watched about 15 minutes of WGN "news." The broadcasters, who I think are pretty funny and basically run the show as if they think no one is watching, were badgering a couple of dorky Indy newscasters over Sunday's Superbowl when I turned the tv on. When they were sick of talking to the Indy folks, they started doing the "what? what? we can't hear you? wha. . .?" and then pulled the plug.

After that it was time to do something called "working out." I gave my apartment a whore bath, gave myself a whore bath and hit the coffeehouse where I'm now typing into the blogosphere.

Isn't this the sweetest cake ever?

My co workers gave me a lovely, and generous send off yesterday. The "Man" sprung for some pizza, and my fellow inmates bought the cake you see here.

When you're single, live alone, and only see your friends a few hours a week, by and large you are spending the bulk of your days with your colleagues. So in my mind, you sure as hell better like them and I did. Apparently they liked me as well.