“To the person who affixed the word coffee to the word cake, thereby justifying the eating of cake for breakfast, I salute you, unnamed hero.” ~ Unknown
old office door
Today, I picked up the keys to my new cubicle in W.T. Young Library. It’s small, no window, dark. Even if I were by a window with all the space in the world, I wouldn’t be thrilled about moving to Young. I’m far from the only person in Special Collections disappointed by this change. I started my career at UK in the old King Library, and I had hoped to end my career there. It is not to be, thanks to the university’s capital projects timeline. But then, I had expected to end my career still working full-time running the newspaper program, and that didn’t happen either. Nobody can ever accuse me of getting everything I want, that’s for sure. Margaret I. King Library is everything W.T. Young Library is not. It’s full of more character than asbestos (and it’s packed with asbestos), with halls filled with colleagues who are genuinely happy to see me when we pass. We have a large break room where we’ve had lunch together more times than I can count. Together, we’ve hunkered down in the basement during tornado warnings, been shocked by cockroaches big enough to bite your legs off suddenly appearing in the restrooms, and laughed our asses off at students with questionable sense. The one who didn’t understand how boneless chickens can walk tops the list (true story). This door to my old office looks lonesome with nothing behind it now but dust and memories. It’s been a good run.
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