(no subject)
Two weeks. Bleah.
I share a wall with the file room, and, as I sit and work, can hear the gentle thud of files whose last two numbers are between 00 and 14 as they get put back in their rightful places. I am used to these gentle thuds. I was therefore alarmed today when I heard an entirely different noise. I swear, my first thought was that our new file boy had decided the men's room was too far and was relieving himself against the shared wall (reality had obviously withdrawn, by this point). No such luck. I looked up, and saw the ceiling was leaking, and had just issued forth a torrent of water right onto my coat and stacks of illicit correspondence. Fuck. I notified Nancy ("Um, I hate to be a buzzkill, but my ceiling is definitely leaking."), who delegated a party of one to phone maintenance. Maintenance came, removed a ceiling tile, announced there was nothing that could be done, and left the ceiling open "to dry out". However, he also left his ladder, so I now have an escape route if I get bored tomorrow.