To My Employer:I have decided that from now on I will only be coming into the office late at night. Not only do I get a hell of a lot more work done, I actually enjoy my time spent here. Granted, when I came in at 9pm on this fine Saturday evening, my office was 85 degrees. I’m a little concerned about that, since we house six or eight servers in here, and the last thing I want is for my neat little workspace to go up in flames. Luckily, due to my new human-contact-less schedule, I’m able to roll up my jeans, take off my hoodie, and walk around barefoot. I guess I can handle a little heat. While I was waiting for my website and database backups to run tonight, I went to the kitchen and made myself an entire one-gallon carafe of decaf coffee. With a little imagination and a couple packets of Splenda and creamer, I made myself a fair semblance of a latte. Owing to the heat, I even made it iced, after I discovered that our office fridge has an icemaker. I examined the rest of the contents of the refrigerator in detail while waiting for the coffee to brew, and found six Lean Cuisine entrees (at least half of them meatloaf), some old pizza sandwiched between two paper plates, week-old bagels, a monstrous pack of sliced cheese, every kind of pop imaginable, two huge buckets of 90%-air vanilla ice cream, and, confusingly, about six cans of Reddi-Whip. After three cups of pseudo-latte, I had visited the restroom enough times to make use of each the stalls (four, including the handicapped one, which I saved for last). I blasted dance music from the cheap speakers on my computer, then got paranoid and turned it off. I upgraded the intranet, broke the intranet, fixed the intranet, and broke it again. I messaged Heather to be sure I still had a connection to the outside world. I got dizzy comparing stored procedures between development and production, so I went for a walk around the hallways, peering into all the offices. I cleaned my desk and threw out every piece of paper I could find. I’m a model of productivity. The clock on my phone is telling me it’s 0:48 AM SUN 13, and I should be going home. Instead, I’m sitting here writing this, enjoying my time in the office. I hope you’ll agree to accept this as my notice of my new work schedule, because I think we’ll all be a lot happier with this arrangement. Thanks!