Nov 22 2005

office fantasies

Published by at 12:17 pm under amy's head,daily

Not that sort of fantasy.

Sheesh, you people. Get your mind out of the gutter.

I was reading one of my favorite blogs, Mimi Smartypants and she mentioned how she does kung fu kicks in the elevator when it is empty. Aside from her, of course. I guess it isn’t actually empty. It’s late. Sue me.

Anyway. I was thinking about how I don’t have any cool things like that, that I do, but tonight as I was sitting here musing on my return to work tomorrow (stayed home with a non-sick Ethan), I realized that I DO have office fantasies.

The guy in charge of our division/office/borg collective, is a very nice man that I’ve spoken with once, on my first day, when he was in his office when the HR lady was showing me around. He was very interested in me and seemed to know about my skills, which impressed and scared me. I wasn’t quite sure who HE was, but the huge office kind of tipped me off that he was probably the highest guy in the office.

Anyway. Back to the fantasy. Every day, many times a day, I trek from my cube to the kitchen, questing for tea bags and hot water to douse them with. Mr. InCharge’s office is not between my cube and the way to the kitchen, but it is in between the kitchen and the front desk, which leads to the hallway which has the door to the ladies room, and I often go through that door because of the said tea bags doused with hot water and sprinked with many many many packets of Equal (if aspartame causes tumors, tell my family I love them). So once every few days, I douse the tea bags, and trot out past the front door to answer nature’s call and then return to the kitchen to retrieve my mug and return to my desk.

So I pass Mr. Incharge’s office, and being the nice guy that he is, his door is usually open. sometimes he’s in there, and sometimes he’s not. Well, every time I pass I have this urge to just go in and plop down on his expansive sofa (as opposed to the chairs opposite his desk where I’m guessing folks usually sit) and just shoot the shit. “Hiya! How’s it going? Do anything interesting this weekend? Me? Oh just a little TV, some gardening, nothing special. OK, Just thought I’d say hi!” and pop up and leave.

It’s really not a big thing, just a fleeting thought that passes my mind when I pass Mr. Incharge’s office.

The other thing I’d like to do, and probably will when I can get away with it, is turn a cartwheel going down the hall. I’m always plotting on when and how I could do this. Once I thought to myself, the adrenaline rushing, “THIS IS IT! THERE’S NO ONE AROUND I COULD TOTALLY TURN A CARTWHEEL.” But then I chickened out with the thought that I haven’t done a cartwheel in years, and I should probably practice at home before taking my act on the road. I think I was also wearing a skirt, so that’d be a good reason not to.

Cartwheels remind me of pre-teen adolescence, back in those golden years when it was still ok to play with your friends, make up stories, act them out, pretend in the backyard, dress up your kittens.. before the abrupt change into teenagers when suddenly you don’t “play” anymore, you “hang out”, you paint your nails, you talk on the phone and you alternate between talking about boys, clothes and tonight’s math homework. My best friend and next door neighbor, Heidi and I did cartwheels all the time. I even had a “thing” where if I was ever in a crappy mood, I would do a cartwheel, and it would make me happy. I loved to do them in grocery stores just to shock people (this one continued on into adolescence though, shocking people doesn’t seem to grow immature with time. or does it?)

So I’m totally thinking about taking that Mr. Incharge thing out in case someone from work finds my blog one day. It’s not like it’s bad or anything, but still. Oh well.

– amy’s turnout was never good enough, but she always had “beautiful hand shape”, and good feet
” amy’s ballet teacher never forgave her for also taking gymnastics, despite the beautiful hand shape and the high arched foot

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