My bags aren't packed. I'm not ready to go.

My heart raced through my chest as my boss came into our department and shut the door. The look in her eyes were saddened. She rolled the empty hair into the room and took a seat. I knew what was coming next.  They didn't. She drew in a big breath...

She explained things were changing in the next week. I watched and listened, my heart still pumping beyond necessary speed in my body. My coworkers jaws dropped. My life plan for the last four months was team fodder. They asked questions, and I answered with complete honesty.

My boss's eyes quivered when she looked at me. I told her, "Stop it! It's not like I'm dying." But then I realized...it is like I'm dying. I'm the life of my team - I'm the energy, I'm the entertainment. Monday morning after I leave will be a somber event commemorated with an empty desk and quiet coffee pot chatter. No one will be there to joke about how I don't take customer calls until after a cup of "anti-bitch juice." And the YouTube videos of playful Bulldog puppies won't draw the shrill of excitement as my puppy ovaries are prepared for 2014.

Instead I'll be working the other coast's hours and barely overlapping with my old crew. It's going to be different and I don't know if I'm truly ready. Maybe Bailey's in my coffee will help. Yes, that should do it.

My replacement desk. It's like the loaner PE clothes from junior high. Gah.