At this moment, there is nothing more inviting then the twin-bed-sized patch of carpet next to my computer. It calls to me, beckoning me to give my door a gentle tap, sending it shut, and avail myself of its industrial-quality glory.* Nevermind that it is undoubtedly strewn with bits of loose tea and graham cracker crumbs.
The only thing that at the moment that would rival that would be a hot fudge malt from the diner nearby. But alas, even slurping sounds too difficult (they do make 'em thick).
*The carpet was put in a year ago, and selected from a series of office carpets unified by a Chicago theme. This one was called "lakeshore," I believe. One option in the series was "deep dish pizza," a revolting orange with green and brown flecks. Pizza carpet? I admire the creativity, but eww.
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