cubicle farming

my sister and i have this terrible thing we do at work, which is refer to people on the other side of the divide as "the others."  they're probably on the calls we overhear the most, just because of the way our desks are set up.  the people in your actual row, ahead of you and behind you, are actually much farther away, whereas the person who sits on the other side of the cubicle divide is basically two feet away.  it's literally impossible not to hear them talking on the phone, or to each other.  that last part makes me nuts because i never chit chat with my neighbors because you know, i'm always on a call or working! also, we have this new, amazing technology to cut down on the noise at work called "instant messaging."  we're encouraged to use it so there isn't a lot of background noise when we're on calls.  no one ever needs to yell across an aisle because as a matter of fact, it's required that we have it up and operating the whole time we're at work.   

puppygate 2013, which is what we're now calling that breakdown about the death of a dog last week, is the main topic of conversation lately for my others. the woman in question literally won't shut up about the new puppy she's getting tomorrow.  new puppy this, new puppy that, new puppy all the time!  we've already established that i can be a bit uncaring, but i can't help but feel like maybe she's getting this puppy too soon.   it makes her grief seem less authentic to me.  yes, it felt staged to me at the time too, but now i'm almost more convinced that this is more about attention and drama than the sweet, fuzzy love a person feels for their pet.  i know, i know, everyone grieves their own way and we're all indvidual snowflakes of amazing, but jesus, she can't wait a week?  i think a week given over to sadness for a dog you loved is reasonable.

and it makes me think of LuLu, my sweet girl, and how she's been gone for three months now. part of me feels ready for a new pet, and part of me thinks that would be a dick thing to do because she's barely been gone.  i miss her all the time.  i still look for her at the front door when i wake up, i still have a giant bag of barely touched cat food, i keep her catnip mushroom in my knitting basket and her magical kitten whiskers in the jar on our mantle.  i still talk about her like she's here, but i suspect that has to do with just not knowing what happened.  she was a good cat and we loved her.  i don't want to rush into a new relationship with a pet.  i guess if i met another funny, talkative cat at work who jumped into my car, i'd go with it, but no kitten shopping for me just yet.