Never fear, when I was rummaging I did in fact wipe off some of the dirt you see in this photo. It's probably mostly skin cells. And crumbs from lunch.
But more perplexing: Who wrote the message? WHO LOVES ME? Really, WHO LOVES ME AND WROTE IT HERE ON MY WRIST-REST? I've had this thing since college, so the possible scribblers are endless. Female friend? Male? Canine?
Either way, when I need a pick me up, you know where I'm going. The wrist-rest-cum-elbow-rest. Someone out there loves me.
And yes, I did manage to photograph the more interesting part of "a day in the life of a sky-scraper cubicle dweller": The window washer!
Considering the tower has over 60 stories, the fact that he's almost on 23 must feel pretty good. Please note the suds. And the reflection of my desk, where if you look closely enough you can see the sock monkeys sitting on a shelf.
The entire time, no eye contact. He must either ignore all the crazies inside, or not be able to see through the reflection. I admire his mustache. It is a bold fashion statement.
That, my friends, is what it's like to work in the Hancock tower. Really, what else do you need to know?