Friday morning comes at last. Fridays are a beautiful thing, because I only have to spend four, rather than nine, hours imprisoned in this cubicle. My cubicle is 8x8 feet, with grey walls, grey desk, kind of green-grey carpet. The walls of the third floor of the east tower, where I make my living, are also grey. So's the ceiling. The doors are brown, and the stalls in the bathroom are cream. My eyes are not stimulated here... nor is my mind. I believe that this funky carpet/fabric they make cubicles out of is intended to imprison the spirit and mind as well as the body.
Coffee hasn't cooled down enough for me to drink yet. That's the funny thing about coffee... it's always either too hot or too cold. There is no "just right". Some mornings, my coffee forgets there ever was a man named Newton, and cools down past room temperature. I love it when things violate thermodynamic principles. Not.
Anyway, Barbara and Nathan are both coming home this weekend, which means I shall not be too bored. *g*
matchbox twenty concert: 10 days
Stanford: 21 days

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