It was 11:02 on Monday when she countersigned. The final act. The thing that sealed it.
At 11:03 I was a free woman. Sort of.
To be perfectly honest with you, the whole experience turned out to be rather anticlimatic. I wasn't expecting a marching band, or fireworks, or a giant Mexican wave, but a hug would have been nice. A couple of "woohoo girls". The perfect pop of a champagne cork. Something.
Instead I lolled around the office for a few hours, doing nothing in particular. For fun, at lunch, I went up to the cafeteria to shock people but despite the brief shadow of jealousy that passed over their features before the stern looks of disapproval returned, I tired of that quickly.
And yet, something was bound to happen. I could feel it. This was an important day, dammit, this was the beginning of the rest of my life. The moment I would be able look back to and say "ha! there it is! right there!"
So I started small. A smile. A spontaneous date for a harvest weekend. A writing partner. Macaroni & cheese and a glass of red wine.
All in all, a not too shabby way to top off the day I quit my job.