What the hell is she taping? One of my neighbors has been tearing off little pieces of tape for over an hour now. Shuffling papers after each slice of the tape dispenser, too, indicating that there is a reason for her insanity.
This is an office. It’s 2009, for God’s sake. What the fuck needs taping nowadays?
Is she building a little fort out of printer paper and tape? Is she building a paper and tape ball? Is she running a distribution center?
I mean, really. What could it be? If I liked her, I’d ask her, but I don’t, so I can’t. She’s a loud personal call talker and radio listener, just to mention two of her endless neighbor faults. (Speaking of which, I can’t hear her radio today, because the heat is blowing louder than usual through the vents. Never mind that it’s the warmest day of the winter.)
An hour later: She still won’t stop fucking taping shit. I’ve opened the supply cabinet and hoarded all the rolls of tape. She has to run out soon, right?
An hour and fifteen later: I’m leaving.
