My friend Deek and I celebrated our new jobs this weekend. A couple weeks ago I started working at a television station doing web/graphics design. It's a pretty fun environment. Lots of work to do, but I work with a good group of people — and of course, my beloved Mary Mo. Plus, it's interesting work so I don't mind working lots when I'm enjoying what I'm doing.

I knew my last job was getting bad when I started having that Sunday Dread®. It usually started in the late afternoon. I started getting cranky and sad knowing that in the morning I'd have to go to work again and deal with the same bullshit again and be clock-watching all week, counting down the minutes until I left Friday afternoon, spent and lifeless and just wanting to crawl in bed.

Not that everything was bad. It wasn't. I worked with some lovely people. Many I consider my friends and not just coworkers. Friday, I saw them at a big "everyone's quitting" happy hour. There were at least five of us who have recently been liberated. Four of those are in the same month. Considering the mass exodus, I guess it was that bad.

Deek has been a teacher for twenty years. This fall he will being a new career as a librarian. I couldn't be happier for him. Everyone could see the toll teaching was having on him. I'd give him helpful advice when I could. When he was writing his final exam, I suggested he attach applications to various fast food restaurants since that's where most of those little fucktards angels were going to end up any way.

I believe the children are our future.

Deek mentioned that Saturday morning he got sort of emotional thinking about the last twenty years and all the sacrifices his social life has made because of his teaching career. His friends all know not to call him on Fridays because he used that evening to decompress from the week's events. Sundays were for grading and planning. That left Saturday for chores and errands. Not much left after that.

Although I don't think he should have any regrets, I understand how he feels. I've felt that same kind of remorse when I think about all the years I wasted in a funk of depression and not even realizing it. But my philosophy is what's done, is done. It's never too late to live your life.

Now I just need to heed my own advice.