leaving

So I left my job. Oddly, after numerous threats to fire me, they then pitched a fit when I took the initiative of walking out on them, having arranged to take back my old job at a bookshop. At the last minute I had serious misgivings- this move meant an enormous pay cut. It meant ditching a (on the surface) successful corporate career for an ultimately unprofessional job with no career prospects. But three weeks on, I can observe the true impact of my move- I am relieved. I don’t start dreading Monday morning on Saturday evenings. I don’t take the phone off the hook for fear my boss might call. I don’t spend my lunch breaks hiding from my colleagues simply because I cant bear the thought of attempting to maintain a conversation with them. Rather, my colleagues and I engage in heated debates on obscure issues when we have quite moments on the floor. We throw trivia back and forth at each other. We have a boss we pretty much all get on with. Although I would prefer lounging infinitely about the living room, I generally enjoy going to work. I certainly never dread it.
I am sure I will change my mind in some months when the poverty sinks in, but for the moment I think I did the right thing.