If a cow ever got the chance...

Tomorrow has been largely canceled, thanks to my company's periodic need to demonstrate its power over every aspect of our working lives. Everyone in my department is being shifted six rows to the left to consolidate empty space and free up rows of cubes in the middle of the floor for another department to move in. So I have spent the last two days packing up all the crap from my cubicle so that the movers can transport it on Friday afternoon from cubicle 9C368 to cubicle 9C341. Believe it or not, this is more fun than the actual work I am supposed to be doing...

Realizing once again that if I got fired, I really could do the proverbial "out of the building in fifteen minutes." The only things in my cube that I really care about are my Wall of Veganism (a collection of snarky vegetarian sayings, those National Pork Producers Council postcards, and a picture of me, age eight, with a steer); an actual pony that Lass gave me; and my various postcards from the Museum of Contemporary Art and the Art Institute. My e-mail would be more problematic, since there are numerous hilarious messages from DNMNR, who is one of the wittiest people I know. (I feel comfortable saying nice things about him since he doesn't know I restarted this diary and as far as I know, has stopped reading it.) I would post some of our AIM conversations but those are never, ever as funny as the participants seem to think.

So, anyway, the point is that our computers and phones must now be shut down by noon tomorrow... and I am hoping they will do the decent thing and let us leave. This (their doing the decent thing) is never certain, however...

Fuckit, at least I have health insurance. (And get paid a reasonable amount for someone who wears the same pants every day. Business casual, my ass.)

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