He's already a sargeant!

Looks like the cubicle army has a new addition! Thanks to my boss, Dwight now has a Michael Scott to serve beside. It's what the holidays are all about, isn't it?

Merry Christmas, everyone.


Saga of the lamp

Have I been withholding my writings in a show of support for the striking WGA members? Sure, let's go with that.

However, it stops now. (My withholding, not my support. Stay strong, we're all on the same page, etc.)

Once upon a time, I bought a lamp. It was, of course, from IKEA. I am a twenty-something city dweller, after all. It was a nice little table lamp with a pull chain and cool little glass globule over the bulb. I wish I could find a picture of it, but suffice it to say that it did not look anything like this:

This was the sight that greeted me as I returned home the day we had maids clean our apartment. Having maids come was the second-best decision the apartment has ever made and the best is when we had them clean the first time.

Unfortunately, this time was not so awesome. They tried to work an hour past when Tara told them to stop and also, quite obviously, broke my lamp. However, they made no mention of the incident, left no note and I guess just hoped that I wouldn't notice that my cool lamp had been reduced to a bulb on a stick. I would give them credit for cleaning up the broken glass, but that is their job.

So Tara called to complain, there was a whole rigmarole where she tried to cancel her check but they had already cashed it and a couple days later I walk into my room and see this:
Apparently the two maids came back and, having a change of heart but not merely wanting to reimburse me for the cost of the lamp, decided to take my decor into their own hands and simply buy me a new one.

They then asked Tara if they could have the old one. If they could have the old one.

It's now the belief of the apartment that they simply were jealous of the lamp, stole the globule and concocted this elaborate scheme to obtain the base and reassemble the lamp later.

So I have a new lamp now. It's okay. The frosted glass is a little much, but it's a touch lamp and that reminds me of old times and grandmothers' houses, so that's fun.

The moral of the story is to not trust maids, but I bet most of you knew that already.