On May 17th, I posted this. The boxes I packed? Are still here:

because I don’t have an office here in Chicago. Anymore.

Apparently, when the facilities group decided to restructure my old floor, they hadn’t laid out where my new office would be. (Sigh.)

And then, a moratorium was put on any new office moves. In order to save money. (Um? Employee facilities personnel moving boxes from one office to another? How much can that cost? Or, wait! It must be the unplugging of the phone from Jack “A” and plugging it into Jack “B” that costs so much.)

And then, the new buyer came in and took over all of the empty office space to do their assessments and house their executives. So, I’m squatting sitting in a closet:

No windows. Can’t lock the door (or any drawers). Each time I’ve been back since May 17, my chair and phone headset have been gone.

I don’t know about you all, but I keep some personal stuff in my office. You know - tampons, makeup, toothpaste/toothbrush, vibrator personal massager. With FAA regulations, it’s a pain in the ass to cart that shit back and forth when I’m here so often. The one time in the past 8 years that I’ve checked luggage for a domestic flight? And I checked in 2 hours early? Of course. I made it. My clothing stayed in Detroit.

So, does it make me nervous that 3 months have past and these boxes are still sitting out here in what is, essentially, an open closet in an unsecured hallway? Um. Duh. But you know what? It serves them right if they go snooping around. I think that maybe I should add a pair of crotchless panties and fishnet stockings.

No one has lifted my Mardi Gras beads yet.

—- And I’m seriously considering putting this out as my new nameplate. —-

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