No, I don't get parades, just the privilege of cleaning up after a few and being informed I've missed some spots.

The last night I worked, as in lift the barges and tote the bales and, oh, sign in, ended in low key fashion. I was told to come in an hour earlier and while one fellow preferred his usual shift everyone else had mysteriously materialised an hour before me and thus departed. At least, with keys checked in, I didn't have to lock the gate.

It was the Friday before the holiday break so students and teachers vanished far more quickly than usual, though I finally got to chat with the journalism instructor, and there was a last word with a tradesman there for an alarm project.

In the case of the journalism instructor, she got an earful, save your surprise everyone, and then retrieved a couple of bottles of well hidden champagne for a get together elsewhere. When it came time for me, the rain which kept after our region for several days to come was falling and I can't say I saw any cinematic "devices" in the puddles' relections as I motored out, bright but no deeper than caution.

Which was a part of a New Year/retirement resolution of sorts. The drive home was 16 miles and mostly freeway but I figured to move exactly with the Friday traffic, patient if not overly passive. I wasn't out to be the cliche of the departing sidekick cop at the beginning of the crime thriller.

During the next two weeks, on vacation until the actual date, I received letters from certain departments asking for certain documentation which otherwise had been sent to appropriate parties. The date passed and I wondered: was I or was I not? Communications were made and one mailing quickly taken care of. A few hours ago I looked for my mail on the long time employer's site and couldn't. There had been no warnings for expired passwords and now no cues to correct anything.

Stick a fork in me!

But wait a minute, aren't utensils not required hot dogs the usual parade fare?