The Steel Walls of Life

Since I'm now partially involved in the World of the Employed, I find that my days are longly spent in one position: seated. My butt aches, my back screams from the tension and my small cube closes in on me like the walls in an Indiana Jones movie. I booby-trap myself into thinking that I'm fine, but in reality the sitting starts to drain my mental capacity.

My escape is the bathroom. This is where I'd usually make a joke about "I shit you not, it's true", but let's move on to the real reason behind the...behind. Ha, already I'm off to a great start.

My boss has written about former FirstMark co-workers who would nap in the bathroom or do jumping jacks in the stalls. I'm not nearly so edgy. Mostly I just escape to the bathroom to work out my already sore posterior muscles (gosh that sounds gross, but is just a fancy way of saying "my rear end is numb from all the sitting"). The walk over is enough to have my dead feet tingle with the need to get the hell out of the office and into the Summer weather...April, you're a cruel mistress.

There's nothing wrong with escaping to the toilet, really. Unless you're taking colossal time away from the company by composing your memoirs or baking a cake. The solace one can find is almost re-invigorating: I'm almost always in the mood to get back to the grind after 5 minutes fixing my face or just standing in a stall for awhile. I find I can work for longer periods with that small rest! Quite lovely, I must say.

And much better than cruising your ex on Facebook.