Two Weeks Notice

I turned in my two week notice today. I say turned in; it basically was just a casual comment to the boss. He said he expected it would happen, and wished me luck. I'm still not sure I'm a complete loon: I always feel that I'll never be able to find an actual job again. Especially right now.

I was in Rochester for the weekend: the house is really nice, although it turns out that beyond the pine trees in th backyard is a very active train track. It doesn't bother my mother or me too much, but I know that it will drive my dad through the roof.

All my stuff is shoved into the corner of the garage, and looking at it, I'm thinking that I don't have nearly as much stuff as I expected. Certainly, with all my books and dishes, I expected a much more significant mass. Although none of the furniture, like my bed or the chairs I have, have been moved. I have been very active in disposing of a lot of my stuff, giving it away, donating it to charity, throwing it away. Nothing like having to move everything you own to help cure you of your nostalgia and desire to own things. At least in my experience.

My brother showed up in Rochester, too; apparently he hates being on Nantucket, and he is really prone to island fever. He has to take a two hour ferry to the mainland, and then has to rent a car to get anywhere. Poor Kurt.

During the time that we were there, my cousin's wife (my cousin-in-law?) gave birth to a son, Enoch Roger. So on Saturday, we all went over there house to meet the baby and hang out. It eventually ended up with my brother, my cousins, a significant other, and me playing kickball at dusk in the backyard, using a pilates ball. Which isn't a very practical use of a pilates ball, although a more practical use than when we were trying to play hacky sack earlier in the afternoon. I was eventually made permanant pitcher, since I was kicking poorly, and my cousin was really intent on winning. He kicked his sister off his team, kicked me off the team to permanant pitcher, and drafted my brother, in an effort to win. He then kept changing the rules, instituting a 1-out policy (as in, teams change positions after one out) for instance. I am pleased to report that he still lost, by a siginificant amount. That'll teach you to kick all the unathletic people off your team!

When we got back here, there was a letter from the Santa Monica library system, saying that I passed their first round of culling out candidates, and they want me there for a face-to-face, 40 minute meeting next Tuesday. Now, this is the same problem I had with the Delaware interview way back when: this is clearly still preliminary, and yet they want me to fly across the country for 40 minutes of my time. Why can't they do this phase over the phone, and then, if they decide that I have the right mix of competencies and attitudes for their institution, ask me to go their for a face-to-face? I can't afford to go their for the possibility of being considered for the next round of interviews!