Everything seems more isolated up here--probably helped by the division of the department (one group on the East side of the building and the other group on the West side of the building; we should start a Biggie/Tupac-style feud).
There is always a sense of change when I'm walking up the stairs in the morning (and it's not the aching of my thighs either). Somewhere halfway up the landing towards the 4th floor, I can feel the presence of the ceiling and the fact that the stairs are ending--before I see the ending step.
On the first day going down to lunch, my body--used to the rhythm of descending three flights of stairs swung out to the side when I hit the second floor landing. I hitched to a stop to prevent from going into the wrong floor.
My clothes are also taking a beating since I moved up here. On day two, I ripped my dress shirt's sleeve in the bathroom stall when the coat hook grabbed hold of the material and I swung the door. Today, I got soup all over another shirt when I was preparing to heat up my tupperware dish and the released pressure created a geyser of soup onto my unsuspecting chest.
Everything seems more utilitarian somehow than it did down on the third floor. Possibly it's the more muted colors on the cube out panels. Maybe it's the view of the interstate rather than the parking lot (does that make a significant difference?). Maybe it's on the top, so it is more isolated and somehow more quiet than the other floors, sandwiched as they are between layers.
Maybe I expect it to be different, and so it becomes different.
Or maybe I just need to bring my BURGER KING Crown to work and assert some dominance over the situation.
No comments:
Post a Comment