Tonight is a Greenleaf night and I need it like a baby liver on standby.
I forgot to bring food today and so my morning, coupled with the hour run at lunch, has made my appetite the Stuff of Science Fiction. Idaho Science Fiction. All I have to eat in Greenleaf is beer and a hundred thousand pumpkin seeds. Someone just offered me an apple and I wanted to slap her. It's not worth chewing over an apple. I have more coffee, thank god.
Everyone (else) in my office is packing. We have all this week, but these people are so ridiculously organized. My boss asked me when I plan to pack, since I have, essentially 2 work spaces, each filled to the brim with shit. Someone helpfully provided me with 3 boxes. Little boxes. I've stacked my sweaty running stuff on one and my feet on another. The third is kicked over into my other space. If I had a plant, I'd put it on top. I hate plants. I hate packing.
When we move, I will have to share an office with a man-child named Jason. He is pale and furtive; he's somewhere between the age of 22 and 60. I believe he is LDS based on the length of his incissors. He does "database" stuff. He enjoys tabular data and the promise of an afterlife full of my dead relatives waiting on him.
"When do I have to be packed BY?" I asked.
"Friday COB. Do you need more boxes?"
"I'll pack Friday am, then. And no."
She looked disapprovingly at all my books and cupboards and stacks of papers covering about 10 shelves and 12 feet of table space. No one does disapproval like Janus.
"Can I get a shredder? A big one that can chew through bone?" I asked. I am a Big Picture person.