About six weeks ago, one of the guys in my department resigned to pursue a career in architecture, leaving his sunny, spacious office vacant. Every time I spoke with my mom on the phone, even from my cubicle, she started and ended the conversation with a comment about moving in on the territory. I had a hunch that I’d get to relocate, but my manager was travelling for two or three days, so I forced myself to wait it out until he returned and granted permission to transplant myself and my PC to the new digs.
Since then, I’ve done a little bit of decorating and reorganizing. Also, I have accumulated under my desk: two pairs of shoes and one pair of rain boots; four pictures frames from T.J. Maxx that I keep meaning to take home and hang in my bedroom; one umbrella; one sweater coat; one trench jacket; a pair of shoes that I have to return to DSW; a bag of six swim suit separates that I have to return to J. Crew; a miniature sewing kit; three pairs of pants that I need to either have altered or alter myself using that sewing kit; and a set of watercolor paints.
I’ve been in the office after hours or over the weekend a few times recently with a little time to kill. This is evidenced by the scatter of watercolor attempts on an empty shelf against the wall. The next shelf up holds a few stacks of books arranged strategically to emulate this experiment in language by Nina Katchadourian. I already have pins in one pair of the to-be-hemmed trousers; in fact, I brought the sewing kit into the office last weekend so I could try them on with the right pair of shoes, which now ‘lives’ under my desk.
Yes, I have made myself right at home in the office. I already spend most of the work day barefoot. A few weeks ago, I got caught tweezing my eyebrows in preparation for a hair appointment. I haven’t fallen asleep in my chair yet, but I guess it’s only a matter of time before I start picking my nose with my feet up on the desk.
I won’t go into what had to be cleaned out of my station wagon when it was totalled or out of my Honda when I handed it down to my brother. At least there’s no way I can push my office down a hill and into a tree if it runs out of gas.
August 7, 2007 at 8:15 PM
This one time, I spilled a little container of BK French Toast Sticks syrup into my console, but never cleaned it up. Then it became my place for coins. So a couple years later, you can imagine what I had to scrape out. But hey, I made $3.74!