Two Weeks Notice

I mean, yeah, a company needs 2-6 weeks to replace an employee but I cannot imagine that since giving my two weeks notice that I could be any less productive. My output is around 20% and rapidly declining. I have my phone set to DND (Do Not Disturb) which means that it won't ring at my desk, so that I can type this post. I have had about 4,000 calories to fill in the time between bathroom breaks and I am practically sore from the office aerobic exercises that I do at my desk while watching the youtube instructional videos.

Fortunately, I have been able to square things away in preparation for my move. I have delegated most of the cleaning and packing from the comfort of my cubicle.
This job is definitely a nitro-boost of motivation to get a degree but I will miss a few small and rare aspects of my position of ECG technician at the Institute of Veterinary Specialists.

1. I have an 888 number that I can give to clerks when I am buying things and they ask for a telephone number. Just a little something different that I like to do at Macy's.
"Can I have your telephone number?"
"Sure, it's 1-888-pause-844-1413"
"Is that your home number?'
"Yes."

2. I have had a great time as Party Planner Extraordinaire. The Ambush Cake Presentation being my signature move in which streamers and balloons are placed at the cubicle of the Birthday Boy/Girl and the cake rounds the corner in less than 60 seconds. Then the birthday song is sang by Kristi and I and we leave the birthday person to eat cake alone. That's what all degree-seekers have to look forward to. (On my 20th birthday here at the office, I cried so much and so hysterically that I was sent home before 9:00 am since I wasn't using the mute button and clients were complaining. I just couldn't believe that my life had come to this.)
Moving on...

3. I have enjoyed Kristi's outrageous stories as she prepares to get engaged to someone 3 years younger than her and 10 years more mature. Her b/f is supporting the two of them on an EMT's salary, yet she won't accept anything smaller than a 1 ct Princess cut on platnium. Ehem, queen in the cubicle. Her antics are always enlightening. One morning, her eyes were really puffy and she proceeded to tell me what happened: She said that she was sitting on the floor confessing the immense amount of love that she has for her boyfriend and got so excited that she started crying 'happy tears'. She then realized that she had never cried happy tears in 26 years of living and began crying sad tears. She said it was such a moving experience to be so happy and sad at the same time. She then said, "I can't really handle gravity bong hits."

4. It is virtually impossible to get fired.

5. My boss's 9 month-old English Bulldog that lives at the clinic. I lovie love heem sooo maschh!

6. There are communal nail-clippers. It makes for such a nice family atmosphere to share something like that with someone.

7. That one time when the hospital tech euthanised the Cairn Terrier and they couldn't figure out where to keep the body overnight because the cremation service was closed. So they put the dog in a plastic bag in the cardiologist's freezer since he was out of town...

8. I know all lyrics to Jimmy Buffet's "Boats Beaches Bars and Ballads".

9. I am well informed of all possible sudden-death situations threatening pets since I call many, many vet clinics and listen to hold music that sounds like this: "Fruit is a great snack for adults and kids, but did you know that grapes can cause deadly kidney failure in dogs?" No, I didn't.

Good times. ;-)
Time for the next chapter in my lovely life.

This is love.

This is my mom with her new pooch. His name is Duncan. He's a Pembroke Welsh Corgi and he was adopted on Mother's Day by two people with hearts much larger than his ears. Since my brother and I are 24 and 20, respectively, it seemed appropriate that a new baby be given to her on Mother's Day.

That's my dad on the right with Baby Duncs on his belly. That look on my dad's face is one of pure love.
I have yet to meet two people who so completely give their love away.
Not that love is given away, rather it is energy and never dissipates, just changes form. The more that you give away, the more you have yourself.
If you can imagine that they love their dog in this deep, unconditional way, just imagine the love cast upon their children.
Frank and I were born with hypothetical silver spoons. We weren't given fancy things, just simple toys and meals, but we were given this ability to love without reserve. A deep understanding that loving relationships yield the enormous satisfaction of a meaningful life.
Growing up, the best Saturday nights were spent in our living room, listening to Van Morrison in the summertime. The windows open and the humidity abound. The sounds of crickets in the creek drifting in through the open windows. My mom and dad in their appropriate chairs with their books and my brother and I laying the the floor with the dogs, just soaking up the thick love that is felt during shared relaxation in the heat of summer. I slept so well on nights like those.
We spent our last night in that house where our parents nourished our hearts about two months ago. It was May-something. My parents strapped the childhood couch onto the top of their Subaru and drove it over to my brother's house. Frank drove the old lawnmower to the neighbor's house about a mile away and my parents followed in the 'Ru with the old couch tied down. At some point during the trip, my mom was confused as to why my brother kept turning around to look at the car. She asked my dad, "Do you think he knows that it's us?" My dad straightforwardly replied, "How many Subarus do you think there are on this road with couches tied to the roof?"
The relationship that my family shares makes daily trials and tribulations transparent. They're always with me.