The first thing. This weekend, I spent my first ever night away from Teddy. And the result was unexpected – he didn’t cry, I didn’t cry, nothing awful happened. We were going to a wedding in deepest, darkest London, and left His Whingeness with the MIL overnight, who told me that he slept in until 7.40. I mean – what. WHAT. This morning he managed to hold on until 6.15 before he started doing his, “ungh, ungh, ungh” thing which means he’s pushed Shaky Bear out of the cot and wants him back. (Yes, yes, obviously we ignore him, but we can still hear him – “ungh, ungh, ungh, UNGH”.) But anyway. ANYWAY. We all survived. And we are now looking expectantly at MIL and considering future breaks apart from the Tedmeister. She’s probably thinking that she shouldn’t have given us such a glowing report on our return, but it’s TOO LATE NOW. Evil laugh, Hooded Claw dramatic cloak swish, and exit left, etc.
Second thing. My very last day at work is next Tuesday (seriously – as in, see you next Tuesday. It’s as if it were planned or something). And it’s looming large. I’m dreading falling apart in the HR exit interview, because I cry at anything these days (apart from leaving my child for 24 hours, apparently). Stupid really – it’s been a rubbish three months, so I should be glad to get shot of it. But it just feels peculiar – particularly as I don’t have a team anymore. I don’t have anyone to say goodbye to, let alone receive a Sorry You’re Leaving card from. After 17 years! And who cares about me in any case, when about a million other people are being made redundant in the next few weeks? WHO CARES ABOUT ME?
Incredibly, I might just be feeling sorry for myself. More than one person has suggested that I hook up with a couple of old colleagues and have a drink, and I don’t want to do that either. I just want to mope about in a poetic sort of way, and eat biscuits in a non-poetic sort of way. Ignore me. IGNORE ME. Everyone else is, after all.