Moved desks at work this week. Oh yes. NOT ONLY did it press every single one of my i-don't-like-change buttons. BUT ALSO, I was moved from a light, fresh environment filled with phones, chat, people, life, to a closed-in, airless, dark, stuffy hole, with noone around except for me. Just standing near it I could feel my soul being sucked away by the fluro light, peeling paint and air conditioning that seems to be funnelled directly from inside the microwave in the kitchen.
Have attempted to cheer it up with two plants, named Tory and Brian, bets are on to see which one dies first. Heh.
Even uber-boss is feeling guilty about making me move. She stuck her head around the corner (AFTER I'd spent all day wiping splattered food (I think - if not blood) off the walls and given myself a headache squirting bushflower essences 'space-clearing' blend about) and persuaded me to put in a petty-cash claim for the plants. Of course the receipt was in the bin nestling under several peoples lunch leftovers by that point, so needless to say I'll be bearing the cost myself.
Am presently trying to think of positive things about moving desks...