Holy smokes.

It hit me when I woke up on New Year's Day: I just quit my job. I am home, lying in bed, with a year and a half of who-knows-what in front of me. I am going to South America in 18 days.

Oh. my. god.

It hadn't hit me until that moment. Between the last few days at work, the holidays, and the big move out of Ivy Lane, the idea that I was leaving Brattleboro--actually quitting my job, packing up, and leaving--had been batted around like a pinball. It had all been deliciously abstract up until that point. It was something I thought about when I was bored at work.

And then, there I was, looking up at January 1, 2009 thinking, "Oh. shit."

Thankfully, the excitement kicked in shortly after the initial rush of terror. Yes, I was giving up the stability of a job, health insurance, and a pay check, but I was giving it up for a chance of a lifetime. How often does one get the chance to go to one of the most beautiful places on earth with two good friends for two months? When else am I going to have the opportunity to walk away from a job (and all other responsibilities, really) to travel for a year and a half?

I haven't thought about it much since then, but I've been busy with the Bates family Christmas, cross-country skiing with my dad, and avoiding my brother, who is currently a vector for both a virus and strep throat. I'll be writing more about trip preparations in the next few days, as well as sharing some fond memories from my time in Brattleboro.