Portrait of a cube, part 1

My cubicle army is ready to mobilize at a moment's notice. You might recognize Clango from previous musings, but the rest are new, at least to you. That's obviously Bobblehead Dwight (not representing the current unshaven, hilariously downtrodden Dwight), a turtle with a bouncy neck and a Sacagawea dollar stood on its edge.

They are a mighty force. Mess with them at your own peril.

Okay, the coin is maybe not as intimidating, but I keep it around so my space is more like the Batcave.


There's got to be a drinking establishment called The Space Bar, right?

I've been trying to break a bad habit recently.

It's nothing scandalous. It's not gambling or drinking or even cracking my knuckles. I don't think I'll ever stop doing any of those things. I have written proof from 3rd-5th grade that my New Year's Resolution was to stop cracking my knuckles. If the sheer willpower of a 4th grader couldn't do it, I doubt it'll ever happen. In fact, it's gotten worse. I now pop my knees. I will be in a wheelchair by the age of 38.

No, this is a simple typing habit, one that I've been doing ever since I learned the skill from Mavis Beacon. I hit the space bar twice after every period. But according to a book by some writer who is not Mork,this is incorrect.

It is not the most amazing of differences. It is the difference between this. And this*. You see my point.

Really, I wouldn't even bother except that it occasionally does mess with layout, but mostly with GChat and away messages. And that stuff is important. So I am breaking it as we speak.

It should be noted that Lynette told me about this years ago and I am just now heeding her words. I hope you're happy, Lynette.

* After posting a couple times and editing, I have realized that Blogger will automatically edit my double-spacebar-hitting into one. So what the heck was the point of me trying.