Rain Boots

We got a chirpy email today volunteering the use of half role of masking tape and the reminder that we move in 9 days and we should start packing up.

Amateurs.

I kind of see me starting to pack up in 9 days. I think kind of prefer to watch everyone else pack up their things while I wallow and then do the back stroke in my deepening anxiety pond. I really kind of see me sitting at my desk and looking up to see two brawny prisoners standing there waiting to take my desk away. Then, I’ll be all about packing up, but first I’ll be all Do ya’ll need anything? and they’ll be all “We here for your stuff” and I’ll be all Wait, is that today?! Shit!! Hold on a second. and then I’ll be rushing around trying to borrow boxes and tape and shite and everyone will be go “We did that weeks ago! We don’t got no boxes!”, because in my imagination we all speak like rednecks and I will be the only one unprepared.

So to ward this very real eventuality off, I stole a few pieces of an unsupervised role of masking tape - and wrote my name and office number on my tiny, three drawer filing cabinet and part of my cube. I understand that my entire cube isn't coming with me – which is fine, I won’t be in a cube any longer. I will be in an office. There will be a cube farm but I will not be planted in it. I will instead be crammed into a tiny little office, like veal.

But I’m okay with that.

After I IDed my desk, I boxed up the framed pictures of the animals and Tiny E and moved my ceramic snowman. It now looks like I am putting some effort in. I can now do nothing else for another 8 days and not feel all that bad. My anxiety pond has receded into a puddle. If I wanted my puddle to evaporate completely, I would take home my assorted boxes of office decoration and ceramic snowman and magic frame, and I would also put little pieces of tape on my phone and computer and mouse and screen and label maker thingy, and I would find out what if any parts of my cube are going to be transplanted and I would take down all the pictures I have up...But. I kind of like the little gallery I have going on and I think if I had to spend the next 9 days staring at a padded gray wall, I may end up with four padded walls instead of just the one.

And I don’t really want to take all my assorted stuff home. Where would I put it? And I know for damn sure that if it goes too far, it won’t come back or it won’t go far enough and it will take up residence in the car and get beat up. If I leave it here, it’ll be in the way, if I take it home it will be in the way. Sigh. My anxiety puddle is getting my socks wet.