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In Which I Quit My Job (Idle Words)

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I started working, in the sense of receiving regular paychecks in return for sitting in an office, in the summer of 2000. At the time I was living in Vermont in what is called a cottage house (a tiny two-room outgrowth of someone's garage), a place I shared with my mother. The ceilings in the place were seven feet no inches high, and heating was provided by an ugly metal column along one wall, covered with dark-brown faux wood pattern sheet metal. When the heat came on, it would make a clattering noise and fill the room with tepid, oily air, blowing papers around. I slept on an inflatable mattress in the back room; my mother worked four-day weekends in New Hampshire and slept on an arrangement of cushions in the front room when she was home. Each morning towards five o'clock, I would awaken to find my elbow or knee poking into the floor, and have to crawl out of bed to blow additional air into the mattress to get a few hours' more sleep. When I woke up later, it was frequently to the s

04.11.2005 In Which I Quit My Job Joshua did it, Jason did it; and it seems I get to do it, too. Maybe now we can call it a trend. I started working, in the sense of receiving regular paychecks in return for sitting in an office, in the summer of 2000. At the time I was living in Vermont in what is called a cottage house (a tiny two-room outgrowth of someone's garage), a place I shared with my mother. The ceilings in the place were seven feet no inches high, and heating was provided by an ugly metal column along one wall, covered with dark-brown faux wood pattern sheet metal. When the…

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