February 28, 2006

Some emails come by unexpectedly on Monday mornings.

“Pack your bags,” this Monday’s email said right in the subject line.

“Oh shit,” I muttered, quietly blowing my nose on my sleeve, “I thought they liked me.”

“That’s not it,” the email continued. “You’re moving upstairs.”

When I first came here, they shoved me in the basement. But unlike regular basements, this one didn’t offer any old couches where I could sloth, listen to music, and make out with friends. Instead, this cellar was a cold, damp palace of productivity and sorrow.

Understandably, I was secretly glad to get out of the cellar. My new desk is parked in front of a huge window that reaches all the way to the ceiling. Thus, on the up side the move leaves me basking in sunlight for most of the day. On the down side, there’s significantly less flatulence up here and the funny is almost entirely lacking.