The doctor's results came in and it turns out I am safe. The lump is just a collection of "fiberous tissue" and I should check back in about six months if it is still there. So that is good news... although the chronicle of my battle with cancer is now suspended indefinitely. What am I going to do with the blog posts that would have been the beginning of my best selling non-fiction memoirs? Ah well, such is my life. Boring, but at least safe.
I also managed to kill my idea of becoming the mouthpiece of the ever oppressed minimum wage earner by following my dream of quitting. I can hardly say I speak for the working(ish) class if I am blissfully unemployed with my bills being paid by my husband's job that earned twice of what I made and had benefits and bonuses. And he actually likes it.
But anyway, I finally quit. Now, for as much as I hated working there and have been toying with the idea of writing an essay on broken management practices and dreaded going back every single day... with all that, I really had no solid plans to quit. I told myself that I would start looking for another job and eventually maybe find something at least a step up from food service (not that food service is bad, but I don't have the stamina for it), and then I would quit and my excuse would be either "I am moving on to a career in my major/interest field" or "I am moving on to something that pays twice as much." And that would be completely justifiable.
However, I talked to my brother from the Marines one Sunday night and he spent a good five minutes telling me to quit because I hated it. And that's when I started actually thinking about it. I mean, I didn't have another job, how could I quit? And then I realized that having this job made me safe... I knew what to expect, I knew what I was doing, and I wasn't sitting around as a bum. And I'm not sure when I would ever start. That job was my crutch. And I have just removed it.
Oh sure, you think, that sounds very convincing, but now you actually are a bum and that certainly sounds like the easy way out... and I haven't convinced myself that it isn't. But I can only sit idle for so long. I am taking a week off after my two weeks are up and then... doing something. Maybe I'll just look for jobs and bother employers for a while, even though I hate the thought of trying to be my own salesman. Or maybe I'll actually start writing. Short stories to start with. Science fiction is fun... but I need to start producing something, somewhere.
By the way, my excuses ended up being much lamer. "Why are you quitting?" "To follow my dreams." "I think it is time to move on." Oh well, two weeks are still as final, even with lame excuses.
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