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Tuesday, Something weird is emanating from Cubicleland I think I need to make a wall quilt for this cubicle. If I haven't mentioned that before, yes, I'm in a cubicle. Dilbertland has finally claimed me. Although it's a nice cubicle -- big, good-sized desk, all kinds of overhead storage space, a long two-drawer filing cabinet. I still don't have a bottom bezel for my monitor, and someone hooked the keyboard up to one of those ergonomic swing-out shelves which is driving me absolutely batshit, but apart from that I really don't have much complaints about my new workspace.
. . .well, talk to myself. And sing. And swear if something's going wrong, or say, "Oh, THAT'S it," when I solve a bit of code. And of course there are the daily chats with Lyndon over the internal TSB system, which get gushy as all hell because we miss each other so much. All of which seems to be entertaining the guy in the next cubicle over to no end. I have learned not to coo quite so gushily to Lyndon, but most of the time I tend to forget that I have a distinct lack of audio privacy and wind up regaling him with various exotic swearwords and weird little vocal ejaculations. He probably thinks I have Tourette's Syndrome by now, but hey, that should be par for the course in Cubicleland. The other thing that's somewhat disturbing is my distinct lack of a view. I literally don't see daylight unless I go out or to a meeting in the one conference room that has windows (aka Siberia -- I don't know what they've done to the environmental controls of that room, but it always feels like Mr. Freeze's foyer), and I do miss not being able to see the sun or the occasional thunderstorm. So to counteract this sad lack, I'm going to make a bright, cheery wall quilt and tack it up on the cubicle wall. I may not have a view, but at least I can look at something when the websites are on the verge of frying my brain.
And I know what the reason is -- it's a one-two punch of sleeping without Lyndon (which is always distracting) and sleeping on a rock-hard bed. I've grabbed a cushion from the couch for my knees, but the mattress itself doesn't seem to have any give whatsoever, which winds up kinking my spine into unpleasant shapes and I wake up from the pain. Bleah. Okay, maybe melatonin and a new mattress pad. I wonder if Montgomery Wards has any bedding left.
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Of
course, my coworkers may not feel the same way. Since cubicle walls
do nothing to disable external sounds, I bought a set of headphones
and have been listening to CDs at work. And since I can't really
hear myself and am used to being in a private office with a door
I could close, I tend to. . .
And
speaking of frying my brain, I think it's time for melatonin. Or
Bailey's, maybe. In any case, I can't sleep all the way through
the night anymore. It's gotten to the point where I'm waking up
every two hours, peering blearily at the alarm clock, and struggling
to find some position that'll let me get back to sleep again. 
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