Clean Slate.

A couple of weeks back, we were informed that our department was (Once again!) being moved to a new location. It seems to be the curse of the pharmacy department that we’re given prime cubicle real estate, and then shuffled out of it when a more promising client comes along.

I’m a bit disproportionately attached to our current working situation, as it’s the area of the building where I started employment three (already?! That long?! Good lord) years ago. Despite the lack of cell phone signal which drove me to distraction in the first weeks of relocating here, I’ve become fond of our little basement abode.

As it turns out, the move is exactly coinciding with my transition to my new role within the company. Since learning I’d gotten the new job, I’ve been filled with what can only be described as “peace.” For the last three years, I’ve felt a constant drive to move “UP!” and “BETTER!” and I finally feel that I’ve reached a place where I can rest a little. Not necessarily permanently, but that ambitious voice in the back of my head is silent, just for a little while.

I wish that I could say that my last weeks in the old job were pleasant- I got to take over for a brief spell for a coworker (in addition to The Yezel) who got married recently. That gave me a temporary order to my days and definite list of tasks, which was a good way to fill the hours in the day.

I also wish that I could say that my conversation with Current Boss went well and maturely, and that she understood my (very valid) reasons for wanting to transition into a different role. That wasn’t really the case, and I was shown in countless passive aggressive ways over the last weeks that I was “dead to the team.”

Which, whatev.

I’m thrilled with the new team, and have even gotten used to the idea of the move (Princess OCD hates change and went over every inch of the new cube with Lysol wipes.) I have to say… I think it’s an upgrade. In every way.

Army Boy and I were both felled this week by a foul plague that caused us to take a combined sick day… We used to the time to catch up on sleep, fight over the single bathroom and plot more for the Fence Project Finale. It’s this Saturday, thank gawd. The wimmen folk are escaping to go pick up my gown and giggle about things, all of which are activities that wimmen do well.

Ooo, and my ring has returned! I’m back to once again gazing lovingly at it throughout the day. I think that’s an appropriate response after the trauma of sending it off to be repaired.

Alas, that’s all for today. I must squeeze in one last box-laden trip upstairs to my new digs.

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