Two Weeks

A fortnight. 336 hours. 14 days.

Last Friday, I gave Perry my two week notice. Two weeks will go by quick. In three days, I will have only one week left. It seems unfair... I would beg for more days, if I were in Perry's shoes. I'm only leaving him with two weeks.

336 hours to get the work ducks in a row, try to hire somebody, or just get used to the fact that I'm leaving. Now, as I write my daily notes, I write them as if they are for somebody else to read. I'm using first and last names and detailing every step, because in 336 hours, I won't be around to explain.

I just organized my pen drawer. Pens, post-it's, a calculator, business cards and folders, all arranged so that the one coming behind me will find what's needed. It was sad. I'm sad at how soon it will be turned over, and no longer mine. In 336 hours, this big granite desk will no longer be mine.

Poor Perry.

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14 days, until I can say that I officially have a new job. 14 days is a long time. 14 nights, I can't sleep. 10 work days that I try not to look so happy.

I've already visited a job site. I've already done some AutoCAD. My new bosses are already lining people up for me to meet. They're getting projects ready for me to start, and I have to wait 14 days until I can.

There's talk about an office that might be mine, but 14 days before I know if it will be. Design interns to hire as assistants, and14 days until I can be called 'a boss'.


... 14 days until I can be called an interior designer.


14 days is a long time. 336 hours... Two whole weeks.