this is the dawning of the age of solarium
I cannot post so much during the middle of the day in the summer. sorry. it is because my office is what is called a solarium. I am not really sure what is meant by that. my best guess is that solarium means a very small room with no obvious function, but with windows! also included in the definition, perhaps, is that there are no airconditioning vents in here. so it gets really toasty. I would twist the blinds shut, but then my cactus would not get enough sun. so instead I sit in here, dripping with sweat, croaking to mila that if I pass out due to dehydration that I wish to be an organ donor, and that she should mention to the donor people that they could probably get a premium for my ears.
anyway, whenever I complain about the diminutive size of my office or the smothering heat, mila just sings the theme song for this room, which coincidentally has the same tune as aquarius. except it just has a chorus. the lyrics for the chorus are "solaaarium." I guess that should read lyric. mila just sings the same word over and over again until my hand has fused with my mouse and steam starts rising from my glass of cold water. glass of futility more like it. if you need proof that glass is a liquid, just come to my office and observe (ACTUALLY that is a big lie, I am very much dubious of the fact that glass is a liquid, since it has never melted even in my officelarium)
in other news, mila has started the search for a chair for the sitting area in her office.
4 comments:
chair, chaise lounge, sectional sofa, i haven't decided yet.
of course, the strangest thing about this whole situation is that you each have YOUR OWN OFFICE! in your first apartment together! I do not have an office at the ROM - I sit on a catwalk above a photo studio, sometimes in the pitch black because the photog. is using a spotlight on some object. Currently he is shooting what looks like an 18th century pocket compass. Maybe in 10 years I will have my own office at my house, where I can read things about 17th century printing presses and book markets. That would be sweet.
I have to concur with Bronwen on this subject - I am also lacking in office space at the Students' Administrative Council. My workstation is shoehorned into an alcove in the SAC basement that is painted a garish fluorescent orange. It is located just off a high traffic corridor. Sometimes, random SAC workers of dubious telemarketing talents use my alcove to call hapless students about their choice of Convocation payment method. These phone calls are unintelligible even to me (Hellothis is SAChoodandgownrental (breath) wouldyouliketochangeyourmethodof paymentfromchequetocreditcard? Pardon? No, this is SAChoodandgownrental...forthe graduation...nothisisnottickets, thisisSAChoodandgownrental...(you get the idea)). The nearest window is embedded in an asbestos-shedding wall three rooms away, and this looks up onto the SAC compost heap. This was my window last year. I long for it again, but alas, no dice.
My predicament is further complicated by the fact that, while I do not have an office at work, at home my bedroom is already an office - my father's office. This leads to endless grumbling about his lack of access to the computer, and the drifts of clothing across the floor. Maybe some day I will have my own bedroom - my own office might be too much to ask.
what can I say, london real estate is too sweet. sweet as in cheap, not actually as in sweet.
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