Tony, George and Me, Kissing the Old Days Goodbye

President Bush on what he'll do after his term is over: "I'll give some speeches to replenish the ol' coffers."

Press Secretary Tony Snow, whose salary of $170,000 is apparently forcing an early departure: “I’m not going to be able to go the distance, but that’s primarily for financial reasons. I’ve told people when my money runs out, then I’ve got to go.”

I'd like to take this opportunity to announce that, like President Bush and Tony Snow, I too will be leaving my job to ... well, cash in. Frankly, it's been hard making ends meet all these years, but I've never complained because this job has been an honor and a privilege, as both my dog and my son know. They've meant a lot to me, but when it's time, it's time.

These years of grueling public service have been a blessing, though nobody could say there weren't moments of challenge. That time when Flopsy threw up in the kitchen and I slipped in it and landed on my back, dropping the Mexican bake casserole I was taking out of the oven and giving myself second-degree burns - we can't exactly call that a good time, can we?

And the afternoons picking up the kids at soccer practice, only to have my son and his friend Buddy hold flatulence contests in the back seat? A certain yuck factor, I'll grant you.

But those days are gone, and we can all look back now and smile. For me, it's time to kick back and let the moolah roll in. What exactly will I do, you ask?

Lecture circuit. Memoir. You know how it goes. I've frankly got some memories others might find interesting, and some advice I might not mind sharing. For a fee, of course. I can't just give all this stuff away for free.

A More Instructive Sunday Section

Last Sunday I did my usual perusal of the New York Times' wedding pages. As I skipped from announcement to announcement (wondering how they could all be hedge-fund managers or hedge-fund lawyers), I had a thought. Wouldn't The Times do its readers a much better service by running stories not about how marriages begin (because, let's face it, how many variations can there be?) but about how they end? This might be a template:

Kathleen (previously Markowicz) Flood-Haddock, who will henceforth use only her maiden name, announces her divorce from Albert Markowicz, the man whom she claims has "basically ruined" her life for seven of the last eight years. The court hearing is scheduled for April 27 in Courtroom 2B of 11th District Family Court, where the divorcee plans to strew rose petals of gratitude before returning to her home in Slope Park for a wine-and-cheese fete with friends.

Ms. Flood-Haddock, 39, owner of a midtown catering service called Fork It Over!, says she had been considering a split since shortly after the couple's hot-air balloon wedding over an upstate New York amusement park in 1999. According to court records, her long working hours alienated Mr. Markowicz, who retaliated by conducting a series of affairs, but never with women who were "in the least attractive." Ms. Flood-Haddock claims his "callous disregard" of her "aesthetic standards" resulted in a crisis in her self-esteem, leading her to make various mistakes at her catering job. Though "only two" lawsuits ensued, both related to food poisoning, the damage to her reputation was the last straw for her, she said. "They were both settled out of court, and it's not like anybody died," she added.

She went on to claim that Mr. Markowicz' unwillingness to rinse his goatee trimmings from the bathroom sink was a contributing factor in her decision to end the marriage.

Mr. Markowicz, 41, denies Ms. Flood-Haddock's claims about the beard trimmings, but acknowledges that in more than one case he did leave sodden teabags on the kitchen counter. He regrets his part in all teabag-related incidents, he said, as well as other incidents involving splayed magazines, Clearasil-stained tissues left on the coffee table, and rare but upsetting episodes of uncontrollable flatulence.

For his part, Mr. Markowicz, who says his initial attraction to Ms. Flood-Haddock's iridescent pink-and-turquoise hairdo faded soon after their marriage, remains circumspect, unwilling to blame either party for the cooling of their passions. "I just want my Steely Dan albums back, that's all," he said. Following the courthouse ceremony, he moves into his new efficiency apartment, overlooking two dumpsters and the back of a foam-insulation company.