I quit my job a while back — after five years of writing about AIDS, thinking about AIDS, talking about AIDS, eating, drinking and shitting AIDS, it’s time to pull back a bit. Today’s my last day so I feel a bit sad, a bit frustrated at the work that has been left undone, and more than a bit relieved that it’s over. Working in “the sector” is renowned for it’s capacity to make bitter old queens of what were once brightly optimistic you things, so I think it’s best to get out before that happens to me. New challenges await.
There are a bunch of other things happening in our life — we are about to head off on holiday to Europe (I’ll try to keep the blog updated as we go) and we’re in the process of buying a house, or trying to buy it. With the clock ticking down to our departure on Sunday, the odds that we’ll get to the contract stage before we depart are slimming rapidly. Most likely we’ll go away not knowing whether the sale will go to us or not — that’s not ideal, but we’re only gone for three weeks so presumably we can pick up where we left off on our return.
The holiday, much needed and well-deserved, will lighten my (currently heavy) spirit I’m sure, once we step on the plane and leave behind all that is dull and quotidian I suppose I’ll be less bothered by my inability to juggle 18 balls simultaneously, but between now and then I guess I just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Off to Sydney tonight to say farewell to my workmates.