Strike Six - You're Out!

Our new office area is about finished, and I'm getting not-so-subtle pressure from Froggy and Miss Kitty to move soon. Yes, they know that we still have large tree trunks to segment and dispose of and that commencement is just two weeks away and that we have our normal duties still to perform. However, they don't make the connection that there isn't enough time in the world to move as well.

The office turned out quite nicely, considering that none of my choices were honored.

Strike 1: Different tile.
Strike 2: Different carpet.
Strike 3: Different proportion of carpeted rooms to tiled rooms.
Strike 4: Different paint color.
Strike 5: Different baseboard color.

At this point, I didn't even try to weigh in on the blinds, since I know they wouldn't spring for the insulated ones to protect us from the west-facing windows. I haven't been down there yet to see what they installed.

Froggy made an offhand remark yesterday (those are the ones he uses to contain the most deadly information) that he wasn't going to put a toilet and sink in the second restroom. (That's moving from fourteen men with two toilets and one urinal to thirteen men and a woman (pending the hiring process) with one toilet.) I'm not sure whether to count that as one strike or as strikes 6, 7, 8, and 9: no second bathroom, not my toilet choice, not my sink choice, and not my faucet choice.

This process reminds me of elementary school baseball, when the gym teachers thought it would be "fair" to let every student swing until they hit the ball (and by "hit" they meant not a foul ball). That was supposed to help those of us who were not athletically inclined. They seemed to think our fragile egos would be bruised by continually striking out. Um, hello? What do you think it did to our egos that we whiffed ten times instead of three? Our peers teased us anyway. Besides, we already knew we would strike out, and we were used to the teasing for striking out, so why not let it happen naturally?

What's the chance of me finally hitting the ball and getting a water fountain? I think it'll be like swinging so hard that I spin around.