My office has been held under siege for the past week...all due to new carpeting.
That's right - the landlords at our office looked kindly upon us, and allowed my employer the opportunity to redo the carpeting in our "common areas" (hallway, reception area, and lunch room). Which has meant that, for the past few weeks, I have been "Fetch and Carry Boy". Yes, being the only strapping male in the building, I get stuck with the heavy lifting. But enough self-pity.
One of the interesting things that happened was, in one of our libraries, asbestos tile was located. That's right - asbestos, which upon inhaling, causes one potential harmful side effects, including an unhealthy obsession with Gilbert Gottfried. Our executive director made his rounds last week, informing everyone that we were well below the safety thresholds, and that, at most, we would suffer under the delusion that we were Paul Lynde.
Anyway, the vacuums are a blazin', and they're laying down new carpeting, which is a nice, dark, gray-and-magenta number. However, it also means dust (which bothers my allergies), loud noises, a lack of privacy (my door's been removed - bloody peasants!), and all-out wackiness.
Thank God I am out of the office most of this week anyway...but I'm grateful. I have one of the nicer offices in the building, my computer's OK, and I saw End of the Century, the Citizen Kane of documentaries about the Ramones. I mean, let's face it, any film that mentions that Dee Dee lost the singer gig because "he couldn't sing and play bass at the same time" is an instant classic.
Later, dudes (and dudettes!)