I came into the office with Alex yesterday in order to take a look at construction progress on our apartment (heated flooring installed in 3 rooms! sauna done! electricity being wired! walls mostly plastered!), get a manicure, and use the office’s More Powerful Interwebby Connection for my dissertationing and all-around social interwebbery. We left that office more than 12 hours later, getting back to the hotel at 11:30pm.
This is a whiteboard diary of my increasingly grumpy mindset during the final three hours in the office.
Thinky Whiteboard Man thinks: “Hmm, it’s nearly 9pm and a bunch of peeps just muttered darkly and ran into a conference room. I wonder if I should be concerned about the potential lack of supper I’m sensing?”
Grumpy Whiteboard Man thinks: “More conference calls. dinner has ceased to be a hope; it was a cruel myth I told myself to get by. I have a headache. I’m tired. *unintelligible grumbling*”
Zombie PSA: announcing that I am now brain-dead and a potential threat to the office population. BRAAAAAAAINS.
Alex is back at the office ferociously working on their software release this morning, and I’m back at the hotel, feeling remarkably less zombie-ified. But I wonder if the zombie plague has already hit his office… And me in a foreign land with no firepower at my disposal. Time to barricade the door?