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The end of an era

Endings are always so poignant, even when they are good and necessary and timely. I am currently in the process of separating from a company I've worked at for almost 10 years. While I will be there through the end of the month, today was the day I went in to clean out my cubicle. It was a long and arduous task; it's astonishing how much junk and detritus one collects over a decade, how many silly nothings one deems worthy of hoarding. I sorted through the dross and extracted the highest-quality silly nothings. I recycled a lot of paper; old presentations from 2010; memos from colleagues who moved on years ago; piles and piles of old receipts. I threw away a lot. I went around to the empty cubes of my friends and colleagues and left spare silly nothings on their desks, things I thought they might enjoy. I thought about leaving notes with them, but then I thought that there was a random and mysterious beauty in just leaving the object--silent and unexplained.

Then I packed everything up as neatly as possible, into empty paper-boxes I'd scavenged from the copier room, and loaded it all into my car.

Four boxes and a bag. And a yoga mat.

Then I turned in my badge to the very nice and sweet security man who works downstairs. He wished me good luck. I wished him the same.

As I was driving home, I realized it was odd that I hadn't thought to take a picture of my empty cubicle. I take pictures of so many things, you'd think maybe I'd want to memorialize that. But I guess I did not.

Most of the boxes are still in my car. I'm going to smudge them with palo santo and put them in storage to let their energy disperse. I don't want them in my space right now; they feel dangerous and unsettled. At some point I will rehome them. I did bring a few select tchotchkes to live on the shrine I have over my workspace; I think they will be good reminder of what I have left, and where I am going.

I rehomed the soft maneki-nekos and the Buddha-kins. My three-legged crow-gods will welcome and purify them, I'm sure.

The box of dishes I took straight upstairs to the dishwasher. Many of them were still dirty; apparently I failed to wash them before I left on my trip to Japan in March of 2020.

And then, I poured out the last bit of the very excellent bottle of red wine I bought to celebrate my departure, and drank it down. It was very good.

And that, as they say, is that.

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