The walls are closing in. My new boss started work today, and when I walked in, there's a brand-new office where Lori's cubicle used to be. This means, that instead of walking into a wide-open space every morning, where there's light and some semblance of space, my claustrophobic self has to walk into another hallway. Because they had to move the neighboring cubicle out three feet to finish the drywall work, I turn the corner into another narrowing walkway. 
Of course, I relocated my desk several months ago, out of the dark corner with a full window, into this brighter space. Thanks to that choice, I have a window, but I can't look out of it, since there's a cubicle wall in front of it. I feel like I should be in an Albert Camus novel (or a Cure video), today it suddenly dawns on my that I chose my own prison cell.
In other news, I did, in fact, go car shopping over the weekend. The Buick is sick, quite sick, and throwing money at something that may not be worth it is painful. However, being the economics major that I was, opportunity cost says that I'll be sacrificing a lot just to get a new(er) car. Dr. Giesber rings through my head, asking me how many cheeseburgers I can eat before it becomes more worthwhile to buy an order of fries? How many vacations, motorcycle mods, fancy dinners, fine whisky and new patio doors would I be giving up for one pre-owned German sport sedan? And if, despite warning, you read all the way through Saturday's post, you know we need new patio doors, patio doors that DON'T have large gaps at the top and bottom where daylight and OTHER THINGS can pass right through.
But after a heartfelt discussion with Lori Friday night, after another miserable, soul-crushing week working under fluorescent lights and feeling my brain cloud grow larger and larger, it is obvious to all that I am suffering a mid-life crisis. The time has come, gone, and come back again to look at other potential career options, and since I don't know what I want to be when I grow up, the options are fairly open.
Further bulletins as events warrant.
4 comments:
Well, they could at least put a big hunk of Wisconsin cheddar at the end of the rat maze for you every morning! It's only polite.
Sorry to hear about your mid-life crisis. As you know, I'm in one too, but mine is completely self-induced. This was my "stop-gap" job after I got laid off a while back.... and I'll be starting my 7th (GAG!) year of it this January. I still hate it as passionately as I did my first week, so at least I'm consistent.
I'm so with ya - no idea what I wanna be when I grow up. *sigh*
It's okay, kids. We all go through it. Hell, I don't even know what I wanna be when Bev grows up.
I just know it ain't what I'm doing now (wishing on was back on unemployment).
Seriously. The job I'm in is literally sucking all the cheesy goodness out of me and leaving behind the lonely breadcrumbs of self-doubt and a rubbery skin of marinara malaise.
That, and the Pack lost to fucking Cincy.
What say we all get drunk?
Bottoms up, Stuart!
Bev, I'm sorry to hear about your gap...wait, did that come out wrong?
Stuart, drinking might not be bad, but it's only 9:30 am. Of course, now I'm hungry for mozz sticks, too, and I don't think I can get those at 9:30, either.
And I love the word malaise, it's my new favorite, since it describes how I'm feeling all the time. (That doesn't really rhyme, it doesn't rhyme, doesn't rhyme, but describes how I'm feeling all the time.)
And unemployment pay sucks, at least in FL. As much as not struggling to enjoy my current job sounds appealing, I still have that whole "eating fresh food and living indoors" thing that I like so much.
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