Moving Days

Things have gotten a little cinematic here in the States. My company has offered to transfer me to London as soon as my work visa clears. This means in 6-8 weeks I will be setting myself up in London with Peter.

When I received the offer on Friday I had to excuse myself from the office so I could sob uncontrollably. Which I did. In the parking lot. For a good 30 minutes. The Mexicans killing the weeds that grow in the cracks of pavement must have thought my dog died. From their expressions I could tell that the scene was not pretty.

I went back inside, made myself presentable, and went to thank my boss and Managing Director. I could have kissed my Managing Director's perfectly shiny patent leather Ferragamos. She saw how happy I was and her eyes started to well up with tears. She told me to keep in touch and gave me a little talk about how to make it as a woman at the firm.

My boss, while obviously very happy at this triumph of internal mobility, was visibly uncomfortable with all the womanish sobbing. But I still hugged him and I think he was touched.

I hope I can make it through this week without getting any more exciting news. It's too exhausting!

If you're in London see you in 6-8 weeks, or as soon as my visa clears.

Smooches,
M