House Elf Liberation Front

Photo: Whether it says 'FREEDOM' or 'FREE DON', I totally agree.

I'm getting pretty good at writing resignation letters; when I said I wanted to be a writer, that's not what I had in mind. I'm either turning into the girl who can't hold a job, the girl who has unrealistic expectations of the working world, or the girl who doesn't want to work, period. If I had to wager a guess, I'd go with D) All of the above.

I quit my job today, like full-on quit. My resignation letter was pleasant, honest, and final; I don't really want to hear from them or do an exit interview. I just exited as fast as I possibly could--why would I want to prolong it? In the interest of self-assessment, here are some of the reasons I left, lickety-split: my body, mind, and bank account couldn't handle it anymore. I also had the distinct feeling I was staying so I wouldn't disappoint my boss--"oh no, they might not like me!"--which is ridiculous. Men are always so much better at this; they know how to keep professional stuff from becoming personal. I wish I could grow a pair and be all LOOK BITCH IT'S BIDNESS, but the balls I grew this summer melted in the heat last week. I was hoping I could man up and do it in person, but I knew they'd talk me out of it; I have a hard time saying no. So I'm ungainfully unemployed again.

Back to the Craigslist drawing board. I'm no longer licensed as a manicurist, because I don't want to be licensed as a manicurist--my nail tech days are OVAH. Bring me your boring barista jobs, an average bookstore gig, an entry-level receptionist position...I don't care what I do, as long as there are BENEFITS. You know, Health Insurance? I could desperately use Vision and Dental, as well. I have reached an age where benefits are more important than the salary; I'm way behind on everything in the health department.

I would also give my left arm for a schedule that allows for me having a relationship, thanks. Not having any days off with the Esq was taking a toll. My son and the Esq are my favorite part of the week, and we never saw each other--a couple of hours here, an afternoon there, but it wasn't enough. It also sucks working every weekend until late in the evening; I would always arrive at the party after everyone was hammered. Not a fun scenario, although it was perfect for taking blackmail photos for Facebook; too bad I don't know any future pageant queens.

The point is: I'm liberated. Hopefully this time I will figure something out that does not include the spa industry, because I'm sick of it. Unless it's in Switzerland... then I might change my mind.

I think I'm going to be a house-elf for a week; Harry Potter (and Buttercup) would be proud.