I Quit

I quit my job.

I had just gotten used to things – the latest time I could set my alarm clock and not miss the carpool, which microwave in the break room cooks the hottest, how to create reports on Jujyfruits, and who to ask about bear bait. Then, two weeks ago, the publisher at the local printing company had me in for a chat and offered me a position.

I had, in fact, applied there when we first moved into town. But things didn’t work out, and I took the position at the candy company. And life was good.

But it was about to get better. I could write and design, walk to work, have lunch with Nathan sometimes, not get stuck in a ditch on the tundra this winter. Short of writing the great American novel or being a baker, working for the printing company was the best job I could think of.

Of course, in order to get the new job, I had to quit the old job. After taking a week to decide what I would do and finalize the details at the printing company, I gave my two weeks’ notice. It felt like breaking up with my high school boyfriend: nerve-wracking and awful. And as stunned as I was to have a sudden career change, I’m certain it was an even greater shock to my supervisor when she read my letter of resignation. To her credit, she took it well and wished me the best.

Just a few days left, and I’ll be off to new adventures with the printing company. They own the local newspaper, and it’s the Jackson County Fair next week, so there will be plenty to cover. And I can’t wait to open InDesign CS5 and start a new project. There’s nothing like snapping those first few guides into place on a blank sheet. Truthfully, I don’t even know specifically what I’ll be doing. But it will be great.

Rounding out big changes in our lives, we’re finally moved into our new house. More specifically, our new basement. (Why do we always end up in a basement?) The top floor is torn up and in several stages of remodel, while the basement is at least in one piece. Even if it does have earwigs and that funny damp smell.

Speaking of quitting, I would also like to quit remodeling. But the job foreman won't let me go, and technically I promised to stick with him until I die, so he's got me over a barrel there. The work upstairs is progressing slowly. Tearing down the walls and putting in wiring were fairly straightforward. But the sheet rock is a nightmare. You watch a few videos on YouTube and think, “If that guy with the mullet and obvious lack of ambition can put up sheet rock, I can put up sheet rock.” Not necessarily.

Things we have done with the sheet rock so far include: cracking the corners, punching screws through, missing the studs, cutting the outlet holes too large, cutting the light hole in the wrong place, and generally not being able to get all the sides flush. I have a strong suspicion the walls are just a little bit crooked. On average, we hang one sheet every 2-4 hours. Luckily we're planning on living here for quite some time, because that's precisely how long it will take to finish.

Despite everything, and because of some of it, we’re doing well. (Bonus of not having a working kitchen: takeout.) Though it would be nice to be doing well in a bright red kitchen with gorgeous wood cabinets. I’m just saying.

P.S. I am officially a successful gardener. Last night I was poking around in the massive foliage of my overgrown tomato plants when I spied a clump of orange. My first ripe tomatoes! I popped one in my mouth on the spot, and it was heaven. Then I moved a large leaf to reveal a baby cucumber. I literally yelled, "My first cucumber!" while clapping and jumping up and down. Not to be left out, my snow peas and green beans are coming in fast, and I've sprouted two tiny green bell peppers. They grow up so fast!