||[Jul. 27th, 2005|08:45 am]
|||||click of keyboard, shuffle of paper||]|
I quit my class. I was not keeping up. And I was not going half-assed again. Especially when a lot of work was going into arranging the class. I've been known to go for a quick quit-gasm now and again. So I checked:
1. No rush of euphoria after quitting. No jumping, dancing, singing as you go home rather than to said obligation.
2. No sense of being unreasonably protective of the free time that will open up.
3. None of that future-based nostalgia: "I never have to ____ again. Ooooh. And I don't have to see ____. That feels good...Mmmm...Gods that feels good."
So, no. I know a quit-gasm when I have one. I've often said that the last two weeks of a job are the best ever. Knowing you're leaving is enough to give you a quit-gasm if it's a bad job/class/social event. This was not that. I'm not sure what it was. I'll tell you when I find out.
I'm working out a couple of ideas for this fall fund-raiser thing. I haven't heard back from the place I called to check about holding the event. I'm going to call another couple of places today from work. We'll see what happens.
Perhaps the bees were telling me to get busy. Get moving. Get going. Bzzzz.