Stitchpop

Oh, screw it. I'm not going to get any work done today.

I came back to the office with the best of intentions, fresh from a four-day weekend and ready to tackle whatever nastiness lay waiting for me in my in-box. And what do I find here? Our building is having a "block party" so that we can all get to know one another and enjoy a plate full of warm, chewy crockpot pasta while standing around and loitering in the halls.

The best part of this event, I think, is the very loud reggae music that is being played just outside my office. And when I say "best," I'm sure you know the kind of "best" I'm referring to. Not at all the same "best" as when someone mentioned maybe turning down the music, and I shouted out my office door, "That's the best damn idea I've heard all day!"

I really hate to be the person who ruins it for everyone. I tried to jam to the reggae. I braided my hair. I put on my "Hello! My name is…" name tag. I picked up a styrofoam plate and filled it with a sampling of the requisite office party potluck spread: Krispy Kreme donuts, venison sausage, corn chips with chile con queso, bagels, brownies, etc.

I can't enjoy this. Even if I were the type of person who wanted to walk around introducing myself to people I'll never see again, I've got projects on my desk that were supposed to be out last Friday. They're giving me the evil eye. They glare at me accusingly every time I get up to snag another Krispy Kreme. They don't care if everyone else in the building considers this a management-sanctioned goof-off day. The way they're stacked in a haphazard pile in front of my keyboard seems to be their way of saying, "We're just going to be another day later tomorrow, and it's YOUR FAULT."

You see, the documents and I play a little game. It's called Get the F. off my F.ing Desk You F.ing Piece of Shite and Never Come Back. I win points by turning things out of my office as fast as possible. They score by finding their way back into my in-box with edits, corrections, and rewrites. I'm currently down by 6, for those of you keeping score at home.

F.ing reggae…