moving and shaking

i usually try not to blog about work. you know, that whole thing about being canned really does kind of scare me. it's like, lose my job for my blog? i love each and every one of you, dearest readers, but i don't think so. not unless the five of you that check this blog can somehow scrape up 28 thousand bones a year to pay my salary. then i'll lose my job.

today, though, i just have to write about work. i just got out of lab meeting, which always promises to be exciting (if only because we're all trying to figure out how not to pass out from the 90-degree room we have the meeting in) and found out that we're all expected to help pack up boxes of data and office equipment for the impending renovation my floor's about to undergo. that's right. we have to pack boxes. i assume we have to carry these boxes filled with office equipment around. my office is filthy. i have visions of me and this lady my mother's age kneeling on the dusty ground, filling up boxes with reams of paper and rolls of tape and tiny boxes of paperclips. then we'll wave our arms in front of our faces, wipe the sweat off our foreheads with our forearms (we'll be wearing packing gloves, after all) and look at each other exasperatedly, a la laverne and shirley. our look will say "oh, laverne. can you believe the boss is making us do this? oh well, it's a living! schlamile...schlamozel!"

i told my coworker jean that the day we all have to start packing boxes we should wear bandanas on our heads. you know, because it'd be funny and a little bit of a protest. and anything's more fun with a bandana on your head.