Back to craving ice cream...

No no no. Perhaps I should have said "hankering for" or even "desiring." Never never never craving. It suggests the unsuggestable.

Anyway, here I am sitting in my breakroom/office/cubicle/I don't know what to call it anymore space. It has a door with my schedule posted on it, a lock for said door, a filing cabinet that is mine, a phone, a 'puter, a printer, a shelf, a shredder (I could do without that) and a coffee pot (I could never do without that). Home sweet home indefinitely, or so they tell me. Evidently I haven't annoyed the Powers that Be sufficiently. I dropped the not-so-subtle hint that if they got rid of the shredder and the security staff's phone recharger that I would be happy to move in permanently and they could find another place to drop their junk.

No dice. I'm thinking of decorating a little bit. Squatter's Rights and all that. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, isn't it? Yeah, tomorrow I'm bringing in some pictures and a plant. That'll show 'em.

Meanwhile, back to the pressing issue at hand. There's something about this office that makes me want ice cream. Very weird. By the time I get home I'm not interested anymore.

WAIT!!! There's still some Turtle Pie left in the freezer. The locusts didn't get all of it this weekend. Mmmmmmm.