Sometimes it pays to be a secretary.
There is not a corner of this building that you can find that's completely solitary. That kinda makes sense though, doesn't it? After all, this is an office building.
Hmm…perhaps I should amend the above statement. There is one place that's completely solitary…and that's the Boardroom.
Our Boardroom is fairly impressive, I suppose, if not a little plain. I wouldn't call it imposing or anything, except to a corporate neophyte on her first day at her new secretary job. The Boardroom has a ginormous table that has these lovely veneers which look like inlaid wood and it's very, very shiny (that table is a total b*tch to put nametents and agendas on). Those leather chairs aren't that comfortable or that adjustable, but I guess they look ok. The carpet is a nubby purple berber-like material that has a nap to it and it feels thick to say the least. It feels spendy.
But my favorite feature of the Boardroom is the beautiful, half-moon shaped window through which you can view almost the whole office park and about a mile of cityscape. You can see the expressway they're building, the road that I take on the way home, the parking lots, the trees, the traffic on the Drive, the whole nine yards. All the cars and trucks speed by noiselessly, unaware they're being watched. I can't say, though, that being watched by me would be significant to them in any way, shape or form (oooo…another bill collector just called for Twiggy; how I do not miss those days.). I sit on the floor in front of the window and quietly eat my lunch, revelling in the fact that the only noise in that room, besides air slipping through the vents, is the rustling of my clothes when I change positions on the floor. I enjoy the sunlight coming through the window and watch the occasional bird alight from the roof top, descending toward the smorgasbord, aka parking lot, in its mission to negate car washes obtained during someone's harried lunch hour on this 60 degree day.
I have a lot on my mind these days. Deirdre, the future, why I hate this apartment and what I can do today to change that. That place just bothers me. It's so frickin ugly and everywhere I look, there is clutter and not one atom of beauty to be found. Having a home that you don't like coming home to is not all that pleasant. I have got to do something about this place.
But every time I come home from work or have time alone to do whatever I want, I have a sense of futility. If I clean it up, it will just get messy again. If I declutter, then more clutter will just appear. I am overdue for some visits to the Goodwill. I can tell because I have too many books and there's more drinking glasses than there is room in my cupboard for them.
Our evenings these days are spent laying in bed, watching little figures move around on a screen at our command, carrying out their imaginary life's dreams, being purposeful. They're saving worlds, they're saving their friends, they're seeing new places, learning and doing new things, forming meaningful connections with new people. Dreams, for us, seem to be in short supply. We just seem to be suriving, not thriving. We're not saving anything, we're not learning or doing new things, we're not forming meaningful connections with new people or having any sort of adventure, good or bad. We're just there. We're just breathing, eating, sleeping, using electricity, working, driving, cooking, just living. Nothing special about it.
On one hand, that's good. No real drama is going on at this time. Drama-free lives are stable, right? But shouldn't life be something you love doing? I don't mean your job. I don't mean your car. Shouldn't there be something you love about every facet of life?
I read things like Orangette and she talks about loving certain things about her life…she's got a crimson bowl that she has her oatmeal in in the morning. My friends C and A have a lovely little home that you can tell they enjoy living in. It's theirs and they've decorated it beautifully. I don't think it's been done expensively, just thoughtfully, and I want that kind of home to live in. Know what I mean? A home that feels like, when you come home at night, you're really in a place that you like being in, not a place from which you'd really like to escape at the earliest possible opportunity.
Oh well, so that's where I am today. Work is calling so I must away for now.
Feel free to tell me if you can relate.
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