don't want to move it move it

it's the end of an era here at casa de ladymag. as of 4pm this afternoon, i'm out of my very own office and on my way to the new megabuilding. the loss is incalculable: no more reckless book-hoarding,* no more AC/DC at top volume as i pick through medical studies, no more lounging behind my big desk sans pants. just look at those stacks of dollies, waiting to rip my stuff apart and carry it across the city like so many malevolent fuzzy rainbow ants. "my stuff" is a misnomer, though - we aren't allowed to have plants, candles, bulletin boards, or "large personal items" in our new digs, so i'll be lucky if i squeak in with my shiny, shiny pen cup and a few photos of joe and the cats.

then, o then, there's the likely new dress code. since i'm rarely needed at meetings and never have to meet clients, i roll into the office in tees and jeans - never together, mind you, but we define our 'office casual' rather liberally. now that we're to share escalators and elevators with the folks in corporate, i fear that nylons and i are going to get reacquainted.

goodbye, sweet privacy. hello, um, pants.

*this is probably a good thing - i don't really need a copy of barbara boxer's first novel or fifteen vegan cookbooks - but the apartment is looking pretty crowded now that my lovely auxiliary library is taking a dirt nap and its contents have been repatriated. i had twelve huge shelves, people.

1 comment:

bassett h-q said...

Wait. How *are* you supposed to greet pants?

Anywho: there was an article a few weeks ago in the Tribune about how Chicago's sense-of-style needs some serious work. Exhibit A--women downtown in dress clothes with sneakers and white socks. I have zero problem with that. Don't want to turn an ankle just for the sake of wearing heels and sheer stockings? Bless you, ma'am.

You could lead that revolution in New York. Or, of course, you could go all fun-house Vivienne Westwood on people and show up in Dr. Suess style candy-cane stockings. That'll show 'em.