Email to Myself

I figure if I can't blog online while at work, at least I can by email, with the added bonus that there's no risk of my browser suddenly committing suicide in a fit of firefox jealousy.

I've started a caffeine addiction for the first time since college the past few weeks. I don't smoke when I'm sober, what seems so gloriously headrushy when I'm drunk is puketastic the rest of the time. But smokers get breaks and fresh air all the time. I feel a bit odd going down 21 floors just to walk around the block but it's fine to go with my coworker for a flat white. Oh Paris Blend Flat White, so deliciously creamy, you make my filing suddenly meaningful. I count the minutes until I get to see you again. The best (for me, don't mean to be insensitive to others' problems here) part is I HAVE to finish it outside in the park, because one of my supervisors is allergic to coffee. Not just drinking it, even a whiff of it sends her into anaphalactic shock. She has extreme allergies. She didn't go out to the Mobil free dinner with the rest of us because she wasn't sure whether we'd be having spiced food or not. Food with a spicy odor also irritates her.

I feel a renewed sense of interest in something I was getting pretty damn bored by. Sorry I can't tell you more. I've been zoning out thinking about it all day.

Ack! Who am I kidding, this is friggin boring! I walk up and down flights of stairs several times a day when my body starts screaming from chained-to-desk torture syndrome. Noel ran into me between floors 22 and 23 and seemed bemused by the whole thing. How does everyone stay sitting at a desk all day?!?! I hide in the stairwells and stretch, and this is the highlight of my day (after the latte). I wish I had a job where it was absolutely imperative for everyone to jump around to some upbeat tunes for half an hour a day to keep the company running. Maybe it's an office building that feels sad if we don't do it, or just needs the energy to keep baseline maintenance systems running. I wouldn't mind spending my days inside a living building if it meant I could dance. Oh, and if it didn't eat me. Or suffocate me.

(Home now!)