Wednesday, November 17, 2004

Window on the World

I work on the fourth floor and am fortunate enough not only to have an office with real walls and a real door (covered with ancient TinyTuna art, in case you wondered), but also a real live functioning window. Said window actually opens and closes without benefit of special tools, illegal tools, or the cast of Mission Impossible. That being said, I am not supposed to open my window EVER because it ruins the heating/cooling/ventilation system for the entire building, throws off the rotation of the sun, and makes The Baby Jesus cry.

Ergo, the very first thing I do each morning is open my window.

Because I work in the building of incredible stuffiness.
And because I can.

Despite the usual hustle and bustle of the day, the window provides a great deal of amusement. Sometimes the local hawk lands in a tree near our building, and we take time to listen to the crows going absolutely apeshit over the invasion of their space and watch the freaked-out students taking a wiiiiiiide berth as they enter the library. Good Times.

Other times, when I am so busy WORKING all I can manage is to keep an ear out for my next favorite activity: Screech and crash. The library is located on a one-way, two-lane curvy, circular road. Across the street and up the road a smidgen is the TunaU Museum, otherwise known as Our Lady of Perpetual Field Trips. So far today (wet roads and all) we have had no less than three enormous screeches -- as some idiot either tries to turn left out of the right hand lane, or some other idiot tries to jump both lanes of traffic from the library parking lot to the museum parking lot -- but as of yet, no crashes. Despite the fact that they are only fender-benders, each and every Scrreeeeeeeech...CRASH is good for a few "UH-OHs" and several minutes of snicker from the fourth-floor peanut gallery.

Yes, I am the Queen of Schadenfreude.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I hope the window police don't find out! It sounds like the only real joy you have there, other than gazing at Tiny's old artwork.