Libby.

Can I talk to you? Libby asks, striding into my office and scooting chair a bit to close to knee. Say, Come right in, make yourself at home. She does not get my attempt at humor and instead says that She's the sort of person who once she decides something she just goes ahead and does it (have often observed this behavior.) Tell her to go on. Am very surprised to see that she has tears in her eyes. Lean forward and ask, What's wrong? She has decided to quit because she doesn't think she can fulfill her duties adeqetly. Tell her that of course she will take time off to have her baby and as long afterward as she needs, but that we would miss her very much if she left. (have strange feeling about word "we." She shakes her head firmly, No no. She is giving her two week notice and she Won't be coming back. Am thrown into intersting emotional space during intevening minutes. Am sad that she is going, elated that will never have to debate relative merits of White Out brands, and am also in a panic about how to find new person who is even half as capable as Libby. Libby herself seems releived. Having accomplished her mission, Libby sweeps efficiently out of office. Call the Contessa. The Contessa says she understands perfectly my predicament. She will take away one Headache (which hadn't even thought of)--she will organize the going away party.