Strain

I don't write about what I do for a living. That's a good way to get yourself blackballed in whatever industry you happen to be in. But I do share snippets and stories that are work-related from time-to-time. Today's one of those times.

I have an actual office, a real office, not a cubicle, at my new job. With! A! Door! Ahhh, when I was working for Ye Olde Evile Bank, I would have given a kidney to have my very own office. Not to mention a door that I could close when two of my cubicle neighbors would be throwing paper clips at each other, or loudly discussing confidential information about our clients. Good times, good times. NOT!

The new office is large, and it had all a girl could want; computer, phone, desk, bookshelf, second desk, table, boxes of crap behind the door, heaps of copies of stuff with outdated logos...no, wait, someone with OCD does not want heaps and piles of unusable junk. The two desks, particularly, boggles the mind. No, the office did not have two occupants previously. Plus there is a table that is as big as a desk, THREE guest chairs, a bookshelf, too much 'stuff' in that space!

I spent about 2 hours of my first day re-arranging furniture and bringing things to other staff members and asking, "OK if I throw this away?" I did get it to a point where it looked like the spacious office that it is, but there was one problem. My back was to the door, no matter what I was doing. On the computer, working on the desk's surface, talking on the phone....eventually, it gave me the heebie-jeebies, I was looking over my shoulder every ten seconds.


So the second day on the job, I'm re-arranging furniture, for the second time in two days and I'm sure my co-workers have decided that I'm bonkers. Will she do this every day? they're wondering.

The answer to that is a decided no.

Moving 'my' desk, a huge L-shaped monstrosity, wasn't much of a problem that first day. Sure, it took me a while, because I'm a stubborn fool, and I didn't ask for help. It is heavy, it has to weigh at least 150 pounds. Solid wood. But I quickly figured out that pushing it instead of pulling it worked better, and that the office is longer than it is wide. Not a lot of maneuverability, y'see.

I wasn't in the office for more than an hour the second day when I decided that the back to the door thing wasn't going to work for me. Damn! I just got all my pencils sharpened to exactly the same length and placed in neat rows, the sticky note pads put in a careful pile of smallest on the top and largest on the bottom, like goes with like...and now I've got to unload the whole freaking desk again because full of files and whatnot, that sumbitch weighs 400 pounds if it weighs an ounce.

Moving it the second time around was a challenge. A big challenge. Took me forever, and while the furniture is now in a place where I think it will stay, along with the overflow moved someplace other than my office, moving it left me drenched in sweat, wishing that there was a shower stall in the restroom, because I would have showered in a second if there had been one. The fact that I would have had to put the sweaty clothes back on.....well, we don't need to think about that in our fantasy world of what the perfect office would be like.

I hurt after manhandling the desk twice. A little achy here and there, letting me know that I don't hit those muscles during my workout sessions and need to improve. DH has an appointment this week with my magic massotherapist, and believe me, I'd steal it in a heartbeat if it wasn't for the fact that he's done something to his shoulder that is making him miserable. 'cause I think the phrase for this week should be

Ohhhh, my aching back!