"I know! We should just go. I might live to 65, but I could be in a wheelchair by the time I 'have' the money! Or I could be dead! What are we waiting for?"

"You're right! Life is short. My sister knew she wasn't healthy last year, but I know she NEVER thought she wouldn't live to see another Christmas. And it's so weird you brought this up, because I saw a coffee table book on Ireland today at the bookstore and started pining. I was talking to your Aunt Susie tonight (something about a guy from Germany who knew five languages). I know this is a dumb question, but what language do they speak in Ireland?"

"English."

"Oh, yeah. I knew that. But you know what I meant..."

"I think there are different dialects, and there may be some Celtic languages spoken...off in the country, with the sheep? I don't friggin' know."

(While I'm envisioning cozying up in a thatched-roof cottage in the countryside near a hearth wearing a big wool sweater, I'll probably wind up in a pub wearing clothes from Target paying a ridiculous amount of money for a Miller Lite while "Friends" plays on the TV in the background. I betcha I won't even eat one potato while I'm there.)

"Well, how long will your friend still be in the states?"

"He's leaving work on the 15th, but they'll be around for a few weeks after that. It'll be great -- He'd be able to tell us the best times to visit, where to go, etc. I'm not saying we'd show up at their doorstep, but we could visit their town some evening, and I'm sure he'd show us around and give us lots of travel tips...and then we'd venture!"

"Ohhhhhh! Gosh, ok, ok. First, see what info you can get from him about the area....keep in touch with him after he leaves, and we'll see."

"We're doing this, mom."

"Ohhhhweeeee! You know how much I wanna go there, but..."

"But nothing. We'll figure it out. We're both gonna have to get passports, you know."

"OHHH! A passport!"

"I know. How cool is THAT?"

"Oh my gosh! Goodness. Alright, alright. We'll keep this trip in mind. See what you can find out."

"I will. And hey, you know if we go to Ireland, we're gonna have to go to Scotland too..."

"Ohhh! Scotland!"

Now, add to this mix: My other fave co-worker who was acting particularly sullen. I tried to pry into what she was thinking, but she wouldn't give it up.

Hmmmmmm.

Later in the day, I heard her sorting items in her desk tray. Rattle...bink. Shuffle, rattle, shuuuuufffffle, bip-bop-bink.

She walked over and asked me if I wanted a wad of her paper clips.

"Sure! Dump them here!"

First sign someone's thinking of quitting: They fuck with their desk organizer tray. (Because that's been MY first order of business the three or four times I've almost quit).

Second sign someone's toying with the idea of quitting: When they fuck with an already organized desk organizer tray. Her desk may look like a hurricane went by, but her desk tray is perfection. I know, because I go in that drawer to get gum (as does everyone, after asking politely, the first few times).

Third sign someone's mulling over quitting: They give away the two Blow-Pops in their second (candy stash) desk drawer. Especially when that someone passes by and says "You want these? I know you gave them to me, but I've collected two now. I thought I'd give them to the farm manager's kids."

Fourth sign someone's nearly decided to quit: When you ask if they're going on vacation the day of the Christmas luncheon, they respond yes, and when you discover their flight doesn't leave till 4:30 and you ask if they'll stop by anyway, they say "No, I think I'll pass." This being the person who passes on NOTHING. EVER.

Fifth sign someone's blowing the popsicle stand: That person handing off one of their monthly jobs to you, one month advance. "Do you think you can take over the race contest game next year?"

"Uh, ok."

But what I wanted to say was:

HEY WOMAN. I'M QUITTING BEFORE YOU ARE. Or we'll quit around the same time, or something. But me before you, ok? Let's get this coordinated. For maximum shafting of THE MAN.

But she's not talking. And I'm not about to spill the beans to her.

The climax of shafting the man (ahem) in this instance is leaving right before breeding season (mid-February). They're pretty much fucked without her, but me leaving as well would be a double penetration in their unfortunately pinchy hoo-haw.

For now, I need to bide my time, dammit. Dentist appointment, doctor appointment, Rx refill, wee Christmas bonus (??), then I shall deal with January and all its snowflakes and cold winds.

I weeded out two files today at work. Tomorrow those paper clips from my co-worker will get dumped in the supply drawer.

And I have a box of Duraflame logs at home to keep me warm at night.

BRING IT, FEBRUARY.

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