Cubicle life

I'm living the life of Dilbert. Or at least for 8 hours a day. Surrounded, physically, but smells and sounds that are getting to be intolerable.

To the west is the smoker. With a air or smoke hanging on her clothes. I'm sure she has no clue. That I can somewhat tolerate. But the tea she drinks. Really, it smells like Christmas potpourri. When do you wake up one day and say "Yes, I love the taste of Christmas potpourri!!. And I'm going to drink it every day."

To the north. The person with the deviated septum. Or so I'm assuming. It's apparent he can't breath out of his nose. That doesn't sound so horrible until you realize that all day long it sounds like he's snoring. And sometimes I think he is. Most likely due to fatigue caused by sleep apnea. And it gets worse when he puts his head phones on. Like people who try to talk with head phones on. He gets louder. I think I'm going to count the number of breathes he takes today. How fun will that be?

To the east. Ok, I'll give this guy a break, 'cause it's not really him. But rather his project manager. Obviously swimming laps in perfume before heading out for the day. Blech!!!

The best part is, to the south is a wall. My buddy, my friend. He never smells, eats weird food or makes disruptive sounds. Always there for me. Steadfast and sturdy. Ahhhh, my wall.

I think I'll fart and call an impromptu meeting in my cube.