It's nice. The crinkle of cellophane wrapping the peanut butter and cheesy crackers I eat every morning while sitting at my desk at work almost drowns out the incessant yammering of my officemate on the telephone about any God damned notion that pops into his head, often repeating the same non-work-related anecdotes over and over and over again as he places call after call, even while hammering away at his keyboard trading instant messages with who knows how many other people.

My ability to ignore is overwhelmed on a daily basis. I dread coming to the office not because of the work itself, but because I'll have to listen to that giggling shit for another day. I know more about him than I care to know about anyone.

I don't like to talk to anyone when anyone I am not talking to can hear me, in person or on the phone. This man is anathema to me. His continual blather only reinforces my position. Much more of this and I'll go completely mute. If he would just shut the hell up for an hour or two a day, maybe I could get through it.

If only there was a headphone jack on my computer's CD player.