So it’s the night before Bubbey flies home, and although I tried really hard to get to bed early, my mind just will not. shut. off. After I was practically in a fit of rage yesterday about work, I wrote a blog post at night, hoping for some kind of therapeutic, calming effect. This morning, I went to work and felt ok about everything. I emailed my boss about some followup content for the post (that was requested by the other department). Done. Next.

At lunch, our department had a nice summer luncheon with London broil and a solid spread. After the outing, I sat down to review the work of my interns. Once or twice my boss came by to chitty chat, but things are a little different now I suppose. I don’t know that the effects will be long lasting, but considering how pissed I was just the day before, I’ll give myself a few more days.

Regardless, I know the answer. This evening, I went through every single contact in my LinkedIn connections. I noticed some interesting changes too: some people changed jobs; others are still unemployed; wow, some people I know are serial jumpers and you know what? Despite people’s judgements against “short-timers,” the jumpers are probably making way more bank. So it got me thinking: what’s even the point of one year? I mean, there isn’t any real hurry other than my intrinsic impatience, but one year is just as arbitrary as any timepoint. Whatever. One of the most interesting findings? My airplane bud L is no longer with that healthcare software startup in the city. I should have suspected something when he revealed he was like spending all this QT with the fam back East. I hope we can connect again this summer: he says he’ll be back in California at the end of July. In terms of what is next: I’ve got a few things on my list. I’m not opposed to private sector, but I do think I’d like to examine serving nonprofit clients working as a consultant at a software product company. We’ll see.