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Gather Ye Oxen

I am gathering boxes in preparation of moving.

No, not for a cross-country trek, risking life and limb to cholera, starvation, bandits or drowning while in search of a better (or at least different) life in arcadian Willamette Valley. No, I'm being moved at work to a bigger office, just across the floor.

I wish I could say it's because my boss poked his head in my door and said, "This is your office? It's the size of a closet! I'll have this fixed post haste!" No, it's just part of some reclamation of library office space scheme of his, moving librarians into better, unoccupied rooms in the library that belong to other departments before someone in appropriate administration realizes they're empty and decides to use them for a spare professor or storage or the like.

(Little known fact: most university libraries don't usually "own" every room in their spaces. Other departments on campus often have rights to rooms in them. They're like consulates from the Sociology department or Athletics, in the library but not of the library, and they use them however they please. Yes, it's all very strange. Welcome to the feudal world of academia.)

So, I'm collecting boxes. I'm not complaining, however. Did I mention I'm getting a bigger office? Also, there's no chance of dysentery in this move. Sweet.

Reading: Satan's Circus: Murder, Vice, Police Corruption, and New York's Trial of the Century, by Mike Dash.


And as they say, possession is 9/10ths.

My program shares a building with another program that our director has called "the slime mold of the academic world" because they spread into everything. Half of our administrative floor somehow is occupied by them.

Do you get a window?

Yes, for all the good it does me: it looks out on the book stacks, not the outside world where the weather and squirrels are. But it is a window.