Day 91: I feel weird.

I just packed up six and a half years worth of work crap. My shelves are empty, my wall is bare and I have two small boxes and a plastic bag containing everything worth taking anywhere else (except for a tiny fry pan with eggs in it, which I gave to Marcio in the next pod to remember me by). One of those boxes is filled entirely with toys (come work in advertising kids, it's a gas!). It's funny when you leave a place. For years you have been an apparently useful and important cog in the machine, but as you remove yourself and slip out the door, the brute keeps whirring on relentlessly and your relevance dissolves like you were never there in the first place. Such is the march of life I suppose. I have one more morning to spend in this giant, trendily (seven years ago) refurbed warehouse. Then we will lunch, and then I will be cut loose into the outer universe. Soon to be gulped up again, admittedly, into another carefully designed bubble of organised culture, but who knows what that bubble will feel like? Oh, I suppose we will find out. And I'll take weirdness over boringness any day.