(no subject)

Coworkers seem to be surprised that I'm actually leaving. That makes me feel good. We're all going out to dinner in Leiden tonight, which ought to prove to be fun. They gave me a coffee-table book as a sort of Lovely Parting Gift. It's clear that if I ever wanted to move here, I'd be welcome. And, you know, I do like it here. I'd consider it, in the future.

That said, I'm really excited about coming home. (*click*)

We'll go out Saturday night, carouse, be loopy, and stay out too late. I will almost certainly make a fool of myself in some way. There will be an embarrassing but endearing picture taken. Sunday, bleary, I will drag my butt to the airport and sleep on the whole plane ride home despite having intended to get some writing done. I will forget to buy a bottle of genever at the duty-free shop. Customs will frisk me because I look drunk. I will bless the travel gods that got me a direct flight, and when I land, small hearts will pop over my head.

I will spend a week just seeing friends and distributing tiny pleasant objects. People will skate with me. We will brunch.

I will not eat one more fried kroket thingy.

I will avoid mayonnaise. Fucking mayonnaise!

My workload will go down by 35 - 40%: I won't need to stay in the office until 10 or 11, but I won't want to either, and so I'll find a depressing symmetry in that. At work, everyone will want to ask about getting stoned, but only pagan redneck JD will do so. I'll miss having a boss like Mads, I'll miss the coffee, I'll miss the sane pace of life, but right now I miss my people and my home and my kitty and hills and Thai food. That wins. People win.