I have a needed day off today. My workload at the office has been heavy and I have been working extra hours to pull up out of it. I am looking forward to June because that’s when I have given my notice. I gave my boss a full year’s notice of my impending “retirement” last July because she had a feeling that I was not tethered tightly to the company, and asked for it as a courtesy. It’s certainly not legally required, but it is required of anyone who feels that her boss has been kind to her, and who knows her plans that far in advance.
Am I ready to “retire”? Yes. Am I completely unconvinced that it’s the right thing to do? Oh, yes. If I were younger, I would characterize this change of career paths as a personal sabbatical or an experiment. But at 52, I am aware that it would be very difficult to get rehired at my current status as a seniorish paralegal if I, in a year or so, decided that this quitting thing had been a mistake. This is a clear bridge burning, and I have a right to be a little terrified.
Look at all those brushes and palette knives waiting for a workout.
Do I believe I can make a go of Used Art as a business? Not really, but I dream of it. So that will have to be enough, because it’s the best I can muster. And if it isn’t enough, other doors will open. But bear with me through June, at which time I plan to bombard you with paint, canvas, news, and desperate pleas for attention.