Today is Sunday and I move to South Africa on Thursday.

Friday was my last day at work. I had this job for five years and it changed my life. My job brought me to Africa in the first place, and now I’m leaving my job to move to Africa.

So my last day was kind of momentous. Unfortunately I spent the better part of it recovering from my farewell happy hour the night before.

At said happy hour, I drank copious amounts of cheap white wine and regaled my colleagues with embarrassing confessions and anecdotes, many of which were caught on tape. I cringe to think about when and how that video footage will someday resurface.

When I left the bar and became aware of my physical state, I tried to remedy the situation by gulping water and chowing down on a late-night turkey and jalapeño empanada. But alas, the damage was already done.

So I spent my last workday with a hangover. It was probably for the best because it kept my mind off being sad. I attended to administrative details, went to lunch with my coworkers, sent some goodbye emails, and left the office a little after 6.

It felt, oddly, like any other workday. But in reality it might have been my last day working in an American office, or perhaps my last day working in any office at all. That’s scary and thrilling for someone who’s spent 15 years as a nine-to-fiver.

The thing I will miss most is cubicle gossip. Cubicle life in general, actually. I had a nice cube. I hope it’s passed on to someone who appreciates it.