(no subject)

[phthalombrage]

I was wondering when it was going to rain. My car has no air conditioning, and the sun shines brightly, so I always feel it burning my left arm (and not my right). The past couple of days, the sky had been getting progressively greyer and I was wondering when it would finally give in and drop all that building vapor.

And it did. I didn't have to open my window for it not to be miserably warm in my car. The sun was not making cancers on one side of my body. The acidic bodies of the lovebugs were breaking down and sliding away. The calming rhythm of the windshield wipers and rotating tires on water on asphalt lulled my thoughts. Lights reflected off of the road, so people drove safer. The air smelled rich. The grass died less. Rain is nice.

I went to work. Here are those purple flowers (less impressive after a few weeks...) .

The fileroom project is immense.
Stan (cheerfully): She may be cursing me under her breath right now (I wasn't), but her eyes are smiling. She's getting sadistic enjoyment out of all I've been through over the years. So many ungrateful clients!
And the files have some weird stories inside them indeed.

The third floor is warm and stuffy and smells of dust and old paper, like a comforting old bookstore. There's a bunch of displaced furniture and such.

Note the Christmas tree and air conditioner thingy with the tube sticking out of it.
Then there are piles of boxes of crap from the other tenant that uses the other little room that branches off this room.

There's a creepy broken rocking chair in a more vacant corner with cooler, less musty dusty air.

I found mini abaci in one of the boxes. I want to make one like it.
I'm wearing my "I'm excited for the file room" tie dye, even though I had just run a document execution...

I unlock the room.

Woo. Boxes, to the ceiling, blocking the natural light from the small window.

Files, lining the wall.

Basically, I write down info from the files so Stan can decide which ones need to be closed and moved to offsite storage. There are 25 sections of files in the metal grid in which they are organized. One section like this is a day's work. Five hours, two boxes worth of files. Estate planning files are the worst because there's more to track down. Every memo, letter transmitting drafts, execution date, name and address of each beneficiary and fiduciary, address of clients that always move, obsolete document from before I was born, document of person who died almost ten years ago, awkward/weird/sad situations I have to write down in the "miscellaneous info" section of the form... It's a thankless task, but it has become mine. I really want to see it to completion, but I'm simply not going to be around long enough... it's a mammoth undertaking that just hasn't been undertaken for maybe ten years. The annual reports were going on five... and that wasn't even this big of an endeavor!

I have a decent idea of what it is to be a lawyer now, at least the kind who can keep himself out of court most days. I'm glad I'm not going to be one!

Can't wait to see what Sara will think after she goes to the third floor... she wants to be a lawyer, haha.

The ceiling is sexy.

And around the corner, more files! These I have less to do with.

Anyway

This is my workspace. Note the fugly couch, the mattress, the dumpsters... I don't even know why. It's very random and weird videogame/ghetto storage area-esque.

I labeled the box I use to transport files the "Rocket Ship". And there are the lovely forms for the information I find.

This is what my life will look like for the rest of the month, you guys!

But it's okay, because I have ridiculous clothing! Like the fluorescent Micro test shirt... a bit much for work, I might end up having to see clients again... Eww, I need eyeliner to not look like a man.

Stan is very dadlike now that Sara is working with us. Her father is a minister. She's very nice. Now I get hugs like every day. It's not so bad.
He says people like us are the minority. Yes, most people suck. He's a bit scatter-brained at time, but he's a really nice guy and great at his job. He went into the legal trade thinking of it as a profession, not a business, which is how it should be.

En tout cas, all these big projects I end up tackling by myself, mostly unsupervised, are making me feel pretty good about doing research. I'll probably like it. So will Eric, but for his own reasons. He'll be excited that whenever he thinks of a stupid question, a professor will send him to a lab and let him electrocute himself.

If I get my crap together and maybe feel less depressed, I should learn chemistry so I can do materials science/engineering and design better materials to help make our throwaway society a more recycle-y society. Also decrease the strange chemicals/carcinogens that we use for everything. Nathan's facebook post was inspirational. Omg! I just found my retainer! Yes!

Nerd.

I'm making lists already for this summer.
Nicole, organized, what?

I should probably start on my room already... I've calculated that if I continue to spend five hours a day in the file room, I'll get 23/25 sections done... and no letters sent out for prospective estate plan updates, no files moved to storage, no letters sent about pending minute book destruction, no files moved from the 10th floor to the third and no estate planning review upstairs.

I may not even have any time to work in August.
WEAVER PARENTS PLEASE ALLOW YOUR DAUGHTER TO WORK!