Two month notice.

As you know, I'm leaving on Christmas. We're starting in Berlin and journeying on to Prague, Vienna, Bratislava, and Budapest before Jack and Joel go home, then I'm continuing through Croatia, Slovenia, and back up to Austria and, if there's time, Munich. Three weeks.

So, after Christmas, I'll be out of touch for three weeks. Then I'll have three weeks worth of fun times to fill you in on, and then I'll have to hurry and catch you up on the goings on here before I go home.

Yeah. Home home. My original home. The U.S. one. Maybe I'm premature in reporting on this, as I have spent the last four or five months changing my mind about my departure date at least every other day. Sometimes I'd change my mind several times within one day. I'm saying there's a chance I could change my mind again.

But that chance is growing slimmer. There are a million reasons to stay, but basically, what it comes down to is this: I've grown from this job as much as I possibly can. I've plateaued. Sure, the job isn't the only thing I do here, but it's my reason for being here. So if I want to be here, I need to find a new reason. It just feels like time to move on.

This decision wasn't arrived at lightly. It was a sleep-stealer. But now that I've made it, I feel good about it. My, my, it'll be nice to drive a car again.