The strangest part of this journey is telling everyone that I’m going out on leave, and I’m not coming back but I’m not dead yet. A very surreal version of, “Don’t Cry For Me, Argentina”.
I guess they believe they are getting out alive?
I don’t want to disappear (and I don’t want a good-bye party, as that could feel like a premature wake and get morbid pretty quick), but I also don’t want any fuss. I have manners, though, as well as like many of the folks I work with, so it seems weird just to walk off the job to let the rumor committee go nuts.
Yet another moment of weirdness in my life.