The Gloaming

I've entered the gloaming period of my job.  That period between when you tell them you're leaving, for a moment, everyone loves you and thinks you're valuable, and the next moment when they realize they are going to have to do all of your work.  They look at you with a mixture of envy and embitterment.  Go away, their cool smiles say, go away quickly so we can blame all these bugs on you when you're gone.  Now obviously not everyone does that, but there are some...I'd love to listen in on their interior monologues.

It's probably not that bad, but I know how I feel when I talk to someone who I know is on their way out. I often wonder if they were looking, for how long, what they told me they were doing while they were out interviewing, and what a crap thing free will can be when it backfires. 

As for me, I think they assume my mind is sitting on the beach of that day and a half between when I quit this job and start the new one, that lovely stretch of hours and minutes when I am blissfully unemployed with daycare.  Yes, I must set up my home office to make it exquisitely functional, yet easily cleaned as we are still trying to sell This Old House, but also I must watch Dr. Phil at least once, finally paint my toenails and exercise for more than twenty minutes without feeling guilty.  I must call my cousin in California who just had a baby and ask her what it's really like to have two kids.  I must submit my latest short story to at least three contests that I will pay money to join and absolutely not win.  I must take myself out to lunch with wine and read trashy celebrity gossip magazines the whole time.  And I only have a day and a half!  Maybe I should make a list.