holiday

Is it really only Thursday? This week is taking forever! When it is over I am gonna prop up, pop a top, and re-lax. Working in a cube farm is so exhausting. I am too close to everyone and they all want to tell me something or ask me something. They talk to their friends on the phone about the most inane things EVER! To avoid this I usually listen to my i-pod on full blast. I name my stuff. My i-pod is names Isaac. I like it, Isaac the i-pod. My SUV is named ACE. My phone is Barri. Barri is a RAZR.

As a federal employee I work in a huge office building. We just moved in the last decade to a new place. Not that that is a big deal, but with the end of the Clinton Administration and Dan Quayle leaving his office-the slum lord that rented our old building to Uncle Sam lost his DC contact and they built another building for us with a property management company from another state. The Federal Government doesn't own the buildings they operate out of except maybe the post offices. They rent them for 30 years or so and then move on. Word is, the rent here is some insane amount like $100,000.00 a month. It is a "state of the art" modern "green" building that was rumored to cost about $150 million dollars to build. I could have done it for less and given them more for their money. But anyway. People in my agency don't get fired often, sometimes jailed and even more die at their desk, most retire after 30 to 57 years of employment. You think I am kidding about the 57 years--I'm not. Nor am I stretching it about the dying either. There was a man who came into the office early everyday and read the paper. He had one of those jobs where nobody bothered him. After 2 days of him reading the paper someone wanted to talk to him and found his empty shell stiffened by disuse. He had a heart attack and kicked it proped in his desk with the paper laid out for perusal.

A gentlman fell the other day. He is epileptic and chooses to self medicate with alcohol. Epilepsy medication and alcohol don't mix. He tends to go into a seizure and fall face first. He usually smashes his nose, bumps his head or does something that causes copious amounts of blood to be spilled onto the floor. He falls about once a year. I find it very hard to feel sorry for him. He needs help- the company will pay for it.

Back to that holiday thing. I am cleaning at some point this weekend. My junk room is overflowing. I am embarassed for anyone to see it especially my mother. Oh goodness that would be the never-ending carp session. I can hear the echo of her disdainful snear already.

I think I will clean the fridge too. I'll start by drinking all the old beer in there. Then I can move on to the cheese and yogurt. What? You didn't expect me to just move all the stuff and use a cloth or sponge to actually wipe away that eighth of an inch of gunk that has adhered to the bottom of the shelf did you? Do I look crazy?