I need to move to the Keys. Like, now. Half the price, a quarter the aggravation and 10 times the removal from society in general. What’s not to love?
Yesterday, I had a lovely memory of employment past. I had just started my new job after leaving the Crack Den of Iniquity, and I was determined to hire away all the good people from that bad place.
The hire of my first friend was 99% complete when the King of the Crack Heads threatened my friend when she turned in her resignation. Unfortunately, she’s still there, and I pray for her sanity (and everyone else’s) quite regularly.
He didn’t win, though. We never felt it was defeat, mostly because Fat Boy just scored a few thousand more bad Karma points … which will make a dent in his industrial-sized ass in due time. But if that didn’t reaffirm my decision to leave, nothing would.
But what I really remember is how much I loved my new boss. I remember she said we should strip his ass naked, duct-tape him to a chair with wheels, and send him sailing down the Avenue for all to mock.
That was the moment that solidified for me that I had made the right employment choice from my pile of offers. (Where are all those offers now, I ask. Grr.)
It was nice to have that heartwarming little memory. Because when things were good there, they really were great. And in saying that, I think I’ve finally (six months later) let go of my disappointment over how it all ended. It’s a big deal for me when I acknowledge that things had to happen the way they did. I will never really know why, but it’s part of my past and I’m OK with that.
But yeah, it may be time to move away from this area that doesn’t really hold much for me anymore. A cheaper little place situated straight on the Gulf of Mexico would mean not having to bust my ass to try to earn the month’s rent and bill money. Yeah, a return address that starts with “Key” and ends with near-removal from civilization is sounding better and better. …