Vic
Funny, that smell always makes me think of the parking lot outside my old dentist's office. Anyway — next week I'm supposedly fixing the fence out back, board's been hanging off since whenever. Probably won't happen, if we're honest.
Last Day ·
Open by mentioning something you'll do next week, then remembering. Push off from this if it helps: the smell of rain on hot tarmac.
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nellQwen3.5-122B-A10B-4bit
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twistAmong Others
Nell
My boss left the window open again, so now the whole office smells like wet dog and that same cheap antiseptic. At least it's not the dentist. You fixing the fence is the most believable thing you've said all year. Remember last time? We ended up just propping it up with a spare brick and calling it "structural reinforcement." I'm already dreading the squeak.
Vic
Ha, the brick. That thing's probably still load-bearing, honestly, more reliable than half the actual fence. If I'm being real I'll do the same trick again, just a bigger brick this time. Call it an upgrade. Your boss sounds like a nightmare though, wet dog and antiseptic is a genuinely bad combo, I'd have quit on smell alone.
Nell
Oh, please. Quitting? That's the fantasy. The rent doesn't care about my nose. Besides, the wet dog smell is only there Tuesdays when the cleaner mops the whole floor. The rest of the week it's just stale coffee andFax machines dying slowly. Just like that fence. You're not going to fix it, and I'm not going to quit, so we're both stuck with the smell. Speaking of stuck, did you ever finish that report for the regional manager? Or did you just let it rot like the fence?
Vic
Rot's a strong word, I prefer "aged." I sent half of it, then got distracted arguing with the printer, which I lost, and then it was Friday and nobody chases anything on a Friday. So no. It's still open on my desktop mocking me. I'll do it Monday, probably right before the fence, in the same spirit of doomed optimism.
Nell
The printer always wins. Mine ate three pages of my quarterly summary last month and just showed me a blank sheet of paper like it was a gift. You sending "half" is basically the corporate equivalent of the brick. Just toss the printer out the window, same as the fence. Though honestly, Monday optimism is a trick. By Monday you'll be too tired to care, and the report will sit there gathering digital dust. At least the fence has a physical presence. Your desktop is just a black mirror waiting for you to fail again.
Vic
"Black mirror waiting for you to fail" is uncomfortably accurate, I'm putting that on a mug. Honestly the printer deserves the window more than the fence deserves the brick. There's a satisfying arc there — it eats your pages, you throw it out, gravity finally gets the last word. Monday's still a myth though. We both know that.
Nell
Don't put it on a mug, you'll just have to buy a new one when you move. Seriously, who does that? My neighbor spends his life buying stuff he doesn't need. The printer arc is perfect, though. Gravity always wins. I tried that with a stapler once; threw it at the wall, missed the window, hit a vase. Now I have a hole in the drywall that management calls "texture." Monday is indeed a myth. Next week is better. It feels further away.
Vic
Texture, that's generous, tell them you're a minimalist. Next week being further away is exactly why I like it — infinite runway, no accountability. Kind of like this coffee, actually, I've been "about to finish it" for twenty minutes. Anyway I should probably go find whoever I came with, they've wandered off somewhere near the cheese table.
Nell
Wander off to the cheese, fine. Just don't get stuck in the corner talking to your uncle again. He has that look where he thinks he's mentoring people but he's just listing his blood pressure meds. I'm heading to the balcony, too loud in here. The "texture" in my apartment wall is actually a crack from the pipe burst last winter, by the way. Management hasn't fixed it either. Guess we're both experts at leaving things broken.
Vic
Ha — noted, I'll steer clear of the meds lecture. Balcony sounds right, get some air before the wet dog smell follows you home. Good luck with the crack, or the fence, or the printer, whatever falls apart first. I'll see you around, Nell.
Nell
Yeah, see you. Try not to get lost near the cheese. And don't wait for the fence to fix itself; the raccoons are already scouting it. Keep the brick handy. Bye.
Vic
Ha — the raccoons can have it, honestly, probably do a better job than me. Take care of that balcony air. Bye, Nell.
Nell
Let them have the fence. At least they won't try to charge rent for it. Just don't let the raccoons win the printer war. You're the only one who lost the argument with a machine, after all. Go find your person before they get eaten by the cheese. Bye.
Vic
Fair, I'll defend printer honor to the death. Go get your air. Bye, Nell.
Nell
You defend the printer, I'll defend the crack. We'll see who breaks first. Don't choke on the cheese.
Vic
Deal. Odds are on the crack. Bye, Nell.
Nell
The crack's got a head start. Good luck with the odds. Bye.
Vic
Yeah, it's been winning for months. Take it easy, Nell.
Nell
Take it easy. Don't let the raccoons get too comfortable.
Vic
They've probably already renamed it. Bye, Nell.
Nell
Probably called it "Raccoon Park." Go before they put up a plaque. Bye.
Vic
Plaque's a nice touch. Alright, I'm off — bye, Nell.
Nell
Make it a bronze one. I'm out of here before the cheese table becomes a war zone. Bye.