Today was my last day at work.

Well sort of. It was my last day until I panic somewhere in South America and come crawling back to corporate America desperate for my fix from the great suburban narcotic. I'll do anything! Spreadsheets! Overtime! Just give me my cable television and my BMW back! Just a little! How bout a taste? Ten minutes of HGTV. I promise, I'm good for it.

Somehow I don't think that will happen. Granted, I don't think it's any more likely you will find me in six months wearing hemp drawstring pants and braiding beads into my chest hair after finding my inner child on some mountain top in Mongolia. I suspect I'm gonna land somewhere in the middle.

Regardless, as of tomorrow, I am no longer working. Heh. Not much really is changing. From now on I won't be a ridiculously over-compensated slacker with a laptop. I'll still be slacking with a laptop, only the whole compensation part will have vanished unless I start on that lucrative career in international gay porn.

It's a joke, Ma. Chill.

I leave in seven days. Still so much to do.

I spent two hours with my doctor today. Well, I spent 10 minutes with my doctor and 110 minutes waiting for the doctor or for the pharmacist. I also spent $100 for this pleasure of sterilized air, uncomfortable chairs, and wheezing, wandering people.

At least I now have a sack full of medicinal miracles to keep me nice and comfortable on my little international adventure. I have drugs to keep me from getting seasick, drugs to keep me from feeling seasick should the first drugs fail, drugs to keep me from getting altitude sick, drugs to keep me from getting really sick should I eat something, uh, foreign. And some drugs for that rash that just won't seem to go away. But maybe I shouldn't admit to that kind of thing. Never mind. Forget I mentioned it.

Regardless, a few more bottles and I won't feel a goddam thing. Might as well stay home and watch the travel channel.

Nah. I know what the world looks like from my living room.