Tuesday, November 20, 2007

A Note on Personal Hygiene


I find it hard to believe that one can waft in his or her own stench for an entire day and not gag themselves to death. Seriously. Why oh why must I be the one that has the pleasure of sharing an office with the one person in this God-foresaken place that, I'm pretty sure, only bathes when there's a full moon? Personally, I enter super-freak-out mode if I suddenly realize that I forgot to pH balance myself for the day.
I toyed with the idea of leaving a subtle hint - a stick of Degree plopped smack dab in the middle of his desk might be a bit blunt though, no? And I wonder if he'd know that it was me...
Not only am I having to refrain from vomiting all over him (which would be an improvement, really), I get to play hopscotch every time I want to leave the room. Between his 3 (literally) bowls of random glop surrounding his desk - ON THE FLOOR NO LESS - (I'm assuming this is his lunch, but looks more like something you'd scrape off your tire), his chair being pushed out into the middle of the floor every damn time he gets up, and the tornado he calls his desk, I'm pretty sure I might break an ankle one day while attempting to escape my little prison
cell. Do I smell worker's comp.?
I'm not exactly sure how to approach this one but I do know - or at least have been told - that this little "situation" is only temporary. I should have my own little non-smelly, pH balanced cell in just over a month. Let's hope between now and then I don't develop some sort of freaky disorder from inhaling these fumes. Until then, I think I'll be bringing in Febreze by the truckload...


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