I moved into a new office yesterday. The office itself is actually much nicer, it's in a quieter location, and it's got a little more cache than the old one.

Unfortunately, the woman who moved into the office directly adjacent to mine is a ghastly posterchild for Bring Your Gun To Work Day. Firstly, her perfume reeks. It's so bad that I assume she's marinating potpourri in turpentine for a few days, then bathing in it each morning. The whole suite of offices smells like a goddamn whore house, and she's only been here one day. There's about six offices here joined to a main atrium, and when you walk into the central room, it smells faintly of urine; or maybe a wild animal in full rut.

As if that's not enough, she's in her office right now singing. Okay, I don't give a shit if your Mariah fucking Carey; don't sing at the office. Who the hell behaves like that? She's a total hack too. I can't even recognize the song she's singing. It sounds like vocal Muzak, and that's before she starts faintly wailing along with the melody. Her voice reminds me of a violin being played with a hack saw.

Topping it all off is her ridiculous personality. A full-on Obnoxious Yankee, Jersey variety, early baby-boomer vintage. You know, the guttural raspy tone, weird giant jewlery (giant bracelets clanging around her wrists, giant earings weighing on her sagging giant ear lobes, giant teeth jutting out of her giant lower jaw - wait. That's not jewlery is it? Anyways, back at the ranch...), and one of those laughs that makes you want to punch a baby. Good Lord, how I would love to punch a baby right now.

The upside to all this, is that she's retiring in five or six weeks and they're already recruiting for her position. I can only hope that Fate and Irony will not collaborate against me, and find a replacement that's even worse. I mean, the only way to insure my sanity is to weasel my way into the interview process. At least then I can attempt to control who will be invading my space on a regular basis.