Last day of work. The payroll window clerk on level one already authorized my final expense report, and the Tely HR rep already confiscated my News Ltd. ID card. In exactly 89 minutes, I lose privileges of my newspaper e-mail address, a divestment that denies me of all future press releases from Cricket Australia. Well, I'll miss all that.

Finishing here feels strange, but only because finishing here doesn't feel like anything at all. I have no emotion. No melancholy, no delight, nothing. I've left other jobs and felt sentimental, but for some reason, I'm drawing a blank here. Most likely, that's because 1, I'll see most of the newsroom Thursday night at the Aurora Pub, so I have no goodbyes for the moment and 2, I've spent so much energy anticipating upcoming travels that my capacity for more emotion is pretty much nil.

The Tely, I know, took a risk by sponsoring my work visa and allowing me into their newsroom. After six months, most editors think it all worked well -- though I have a sneaking suspicion that many advocated for my hiring just for another potential goodbye drink-off. I have no doubt, though, that this job helped me more than I helped my paper. As I've indicated before, seeing a place as a reporter allows for intense experiences; it allows for an authentic education. You don't just travel to places listed on the Virgin Blue getaways itinerary. You don't just meet like-minded tourists on big Explore Oz luxury buses.

I suppose if I owe the Tely any debt for this, my liver will absorb the cost of payment.

Until Thursday, I just have to get ready for Slater's arrival. Tomorrow I'll clean my apartment, take care of some ungodly errands (several tax-related), pick up a rental car, blah, blah, blah. Strange to think that poor Slater will be spending the entire corresponding day in the air. When he lands Thursday morning, the final chapter of this whole Australia adventure begins.