Relocation.

I miss looting the candy dish by receptionist's desk every evening before I leave work back at our old place. Sadly, that was the only highlight of my day and I didn't even like the chocolate that was in there.  Never again will I compete with Chef Fattie for the last of the peanut butter cups that L rations out so meagerly.  Blasted man.  They’re generic, for pete’s sake.  If you didn’t hoard them like they were so valuable, I wouldn’t want to take them so much.   

I still haven’t come to terms yet that they’ve relocated all of us into this miserable little room of an office next to a grocery store.  It used to be a laundry mat.  Granted, this move is only temporary, but I don’t exactly know how everyone will be able to deal with no boundaries for the next four months.  There are no cubicles--just ten desks crammed with tetris-like precision within 1000 square feet.  Someone has strategically placed the accounting desks inbetween two of the most difficult women in the company as buffers. 

My days grow weary.