I Have Shelves Now. Really.
My boss would like for you to know that the cabinets have now been installed in my office. So! There you are. Also, I did not install them -- an Official Contractor came by and worked in my office all day. I now know that though I'll be just fine hanging up my pictures, it is a mighty good thing I didn't install the cabinets myself. It was a complex procedure, I'll tell you, and though I could have managed the swearing part just fine, the wrassling of giant pieces of furniture onto bolts fixed into precisely drilled holes would have been beyond me.
All is well in my office now, and I've been putting things away.
Also, the new professors have desks. Still no book shelves, but at least the desks are in.
The main office still gives the impression that the secretary and her assistants are dispatching illegal jitneys from a warehouse, rather than informing students where the Chaucer class is being held, but we've all got desks. Even if they're small ones.
So when the College Grand Opening and Rededication happens, we'll be ready with the cookies and coffee up on the 6th floor.
And we've got chairs, some of them lime green. Have a seat.
In other news, Sam and the child have returned safely from the fishing trip they went on today, even though the child fell in the river. He had to have his usual bath tonight anyway, though, cause I do NOT count a dip in the Monongahela as a bath. More as a coating.
No fish came home, alas, so we ate pork chops instead.
But the two pet earthworms, which had been bought for bait but had been turned into pets by the child (who put them in a jar with earth and lettuce, named them Peaches and Sparky, and lies on the floor looking at them fondly), went on the trip for an outing (I'm not sure how often earthworms are supposed to be given outings, but surely that information is in one of these books around here) and came home safely, having survived both the child's fall into the Monongahela, which they apparently spent on the bank of the river, and the death meted out to their brothers and sisters, who did indeed get used for bait.
What they thought about all this I do not know. At the moment they're either sleeping or dead. It's hard to tell, with earthworms, sometimes.
All is well in my office now, and I've been putting things away.
Also, the new professors have desks. Still no book shelves, but at least the desks are in.
The main office still gives the impression that the secretary and her assistants are dispatching illegal jitneys from a warehouse, rather than informing students where the Chaucer class is being held, but we've all got desks. Even if they're small ones.
So when the College Grand Opening and Rededication happens, we'll be ready with the cookies and coffee up on the 6th floor.
And we've got chairs, some of them lime green. Have a seat.
In other news, Sam and the child have returned safely from the fishing trip they went on today, even though the child fell in the river. He had to have his usual bath tonight anyway, though, cause I do NOT count a dip in the Monongahela as a bath. More as a coating.
No fish came home, alas, so we ate pork chops instead.
But the two pet earthworms, which had been bought for bait but had been turned into pets by the child (who put them in a jar with earth and lettuce, named them Peaches and Sparky, and lies on the floor looking at them fondly), went on the trip for an outing (I'm not sure how often earthworms are supposed to be given outings, but surely that information is in one of these books around here) and came home safely, having survived both the child's fall into the Monongahela, which they apparently spent on the bank of the river, and the death meted out to their brothers and sisters, who did indeed get used for bait.
What they thought about all this I do not know. At the moment they're either sleeping or dead. It's hard to tell, with earthworms, sometimes.
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