Nine days until we leave for Cleveland.

I'm so ready to go. The boxes are packed, save a few critical items. The utilities are scheduled to be turned off here, and turned on there. The route is planned, and I-90 is calling my name with more insistence every day.

I'm just about done with the going away parties. There's one left this weekend, but I'm really just looking forward to getting all of it over with. I'm tired of saying goodbye. I'm ready to start saying hello.

I know I'll see some of my friends again before I leave, and each time it gets a little harder, knowing that this may be the last time. . .or may not.

Work is murder right now. The office is closing and most of the people here weren't offered positions with the restructured company. They know there's only two months left of work for them before they have to find something else, and short-timer's attitude is rife amongst the staff. Right now, we have twenty employees in this office. Today, six of them called in sick. That's not an unusual number. The company is offering a generous severence package, but only if each employee finishes the time left and doesn't get fired first. I don't know why anyone would risk losing months worth of salary, but that's exactly what's going on. It's as if they don't believe anyone would fire them before the office shuts down.

Apparently they don't really understand the corporate climate all that well.

I'm just ready, okay? It's been impossible to write with everything going on, and the outstanding submissions are driving me crazy. One prestigious small-market mag still has a story of mine after five and a half months, and BIG NAME MAGAZINE is now holding three of my stories under serious consideration.

I could use a nice sale right now.

Whew. That felt good to get out. :-)

And oh yeah, six weeks and one day without a smoke.

Joseph Haines, signing off from The Edge of the Abyss.