Whoever scheduled us to move office in the same week as the most important club event of the year ought to be strung up and made to listen to 12 hours of the Umbrella song.
It was a nightmare. No email, no phone, no fax, boxes everywhere. It took its toll on us in the way of strained backs, general stinkiness and the wonderful feeling of having 3000 things to do and not getting any of it done. Sigh.
The new temp office is not as bad as I thought though. Its sorta like a cabana in the middle of the forest, a little hideaway where noone can find us.
Which is not a bad thing.
But, oh, the timing. It really riles me.
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