the best feeling

Today some of the same old shit went down at work, and I took a deep breath and looked at the green outside the window and the traffic glinting silvery on the Beltline like I always do. Like I have for ten and a half months. Except I didn't think One day I'll leave this place. Instead, I thought: In three weeks I'm out of here. And then I went home, and the B handed me a sweating Corona with a lime and I drank it right there on the couch and listened to Joe Purdy and waited for the rain to fall.

Three weeks until the beach. Until my last day. Three weeks left in a cube and then--a month to do all the Madison things I've wanted to do, all the things I want to do to say goodbye. Ice cream and lakes and fresh herbs, lemon beers and swims and reading side-by-side and long dog walks at the park and so much curry. Then packing, then a move. Then fresh legal pads and new pencils, new syllabi and textbooks, a new town to explore and students walking by--some to be mine. My own office. And its window.

Three weeks. Jesus.