The resignation curtain-bringer-downer

Well, the deed is done! I have severed the corporate umbilical cord that has bridged my immature career-self with the nutrients of COBRA, Blue Cross, a payslip and Post-it supply these past two years. In fact, it turns out I had the poor taste to actually quit on the second anniversary of my joining the firm, as a colleague pointed out (we have not yet figured out why this monument to my longevity was in her Outlook calendar).
So, like a tedious and poorly cast Broadway show, I am moving into the final month, toward the final mash of sundry "reprise"-es, and a celebration of the composite memories of my historic time in this cubicle by the other cube-mates pissed that I will likely leave them with more work.
I am buoyed my decision to remain frank and honest in my resignation letter, an epistle that began thus:

I regret that December 17 will be my last day at FMI. I have recently made the decision with my husband to take a great, unbidden leap into the unknown; to move to New York City and pursue work in the world of the creative, unorthodox and eccentric, or to answer phones and bus tables - whichever opportunity comes knocking first.

In other news, here is what the NY Times calls the "turducken of desserts", the cherpumple: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rp4yWTLIPaE