Cubicle Life

Enough of this "finding zen" (that's going to be a while).  Let's take a moment and talk about cubicles.  Actually, I'd like to spend several moments talking about my cubicle.  After all, it is where I spend most of my time.  No, really.  I average about 9 hours every day in this 5 by 5 (foot) piece of heaven.  I realize by writing this I am diminishing any chance of appearing "large and in charge" (in an I-have-an-office-with-a-view-and-am-very-important kind of way), but I'm okay with that.  And besides, no one has an office wtih a view here....and I am important.  Very important. 

So my cream-cloth coated 5 by 5 haven is really quite charming if you take away the stigma of actually "being" a cubicle.  Really, it is quite lovely.  Dark granite-colored steel cabinets with matching filing drawers below, plush faux-walls cleverly spattered with photographs of pugs and loved ones, awards (well, one) leaning proudly against the stoic blue recycling bin, steadfast in all its moral glory.  A lamp glows brilliantly in the corner, snug amidst the tangle of cords protruding like octopus tentacles from the depths below.

Taking a deep breath, I inhale the electrical purr of collective machinery, droning harmoniously with the sea of click clacking keyboards and a flurry of paper.  In the distance, the copy machine whines in chorus with an ensemble of jangling telephones; and yet, still, I think I hear my cube neighbor swallow.  The air is flooded with the comings and goings of very important people doing very important things.

A perfect 75 degrees and sunny outside, the air conditioning churns enthusiastically, blowing through my hair and down my back.  I nestle into my scarf, throw a second blanket around my shoulders, turn my face up towards the sky, and bask in the glow of artificial florescent splendor.  So invigorating.  Ah yes, it is good to feel so alive.