Thanks to office politics (two supervisors who both want an office), boss edicts (supervisors should be out on the floor with the office staff), and manager preferences (for the smaller of our two offices), on Friday I moved from my cubicle into the large corner office at work. I now have two windows that give me a lovely view of the parking lot—it’s a one-story building—and the strange people that pass by.

I like to refer to this scenario as the “split baby” outcome of King Solomon.

…

My first job was to clean out all the crap that had been left behind by the previous occupant. That included:

• Four Ikea-branded loops of metal (later determined to be bookends that need to be screwed into the desk)
• Two three-inch-thick books of US Zip Codes from 1996
• A black box marked “Recognition” containing feminine hygiene products and an untouched New York Times crossword book

My new office has no real storage, outside of an endless sea of desk (upon which my tiny computer is now adrift) and two little office drawer/filing cabinets. One of the two cabinets was locked, however, with the key long gone. This inspired my first foray into the dark arts… and in under ten minutes, including tool creation time, I had access to my full storage space. The contents of the locked drawer?

• The cash box that’s been missing for the last year
• A large quantity of gold stars (used to thank and/or recognize staff)

…

I’m torn by this move, to be honest. The tiny amount of socialization I got in my old spot is now gone, as is the occasional serendipity of my overhearing people talking about something that I broke and/or can help with. On the other hand, closing a door when I need to think will be nice… as will knowing what season it is (or what the weather is!) when I’ve been working all day.

I danced with Chris, ex-president of the ballroom dance club, this evening. She’s working towards becoming a teacher, and is currently helping out in a kindergarten classroom.

Some of those kindergarteners were drawing fan-art for Five Nights at Freddy’s, and one bit her hard enough to break skin when she took away their drawings.

The biting, enh. But Five Nights at Freddy’s?