Free My Chair! from the scrap heap

I'm really digging the new digs because, as you can see, we got these cool markerboards. Nature abhors a vacuum, so the only question is how to use them well.

Around the workplace my little dust-up with the Chair Policewoman (or as Dylan memorably called her "Warden Brownblouse" (who, incidentally, looks like a cross between Angie Dickinson and Rosanne Barr)), seems to be becoming the stuff of legend. I feel like the male equivalent of Norma Ray. Word reached our secretary, who made a special visit to express her regret and sympathies regarding said chair; it was hard for me to keep a straight face as the potential loss of my chair is pretty far down the list of difficulties in life. She's a sweet lady, very kind and thoughtful, though I'm not sure if I'd gotten laid off (instead of possibly losing my chair) whether her demeanour and tone would've much changed.

Our secretary thinks the danger has passed, but there's a tenacity in Policewoman that you don't often see except in those overlording petty fiefdoms. Remember the HOUSE episodes where the doctor met his match in a cop who won't let House off the hook? Yep, she's that cop. Many with tiny jurisdictions of power become overly protective of that power. She threatened me with "don't make me hide your chair - I've done it with others" and indeed I wouldn't be surprised if I come in one of these days and find my old chair gone...Gone With the Wind.