Yesterday morning as I drove into work, I felt euphoric. I couldn't wait to tell my colleagues I was leaving and I was bursting with excitement and hope.
Today, when my line manager came in, I felt nervous. I don't even know why. It was that horrible butterflies feeling you get when you're steeling yourself for a conversation about something you don't want to talk about.
Now I'm home, I'm just angry. Angry that my line manager simply placed an envelope on my desk without so much as a word. Angry that the powers that be are already carving up my job and working out how to share out my responsibilities amongst the rest of the employees, without consulting me. Pissed off that I've got three more weeks before it's over.
Sigh.
In other news, I've seen something I want. It's a foodie double-decker bus trip, travelling around vineyards and local producers, trying different local food and ales for a day. I know I should resist because I'm giving up work blah blah blah and it's £55, but it's just the sort of thing I love. Maybe I could buy it for myself as a leaving present.
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