I love my job...except I'm not sure what it is

I love working at the prison. I love most of the people I work with. Even the really crazy ones...well, let's just say I can usually see a hot mess of crazy and not think it's me.

So we are moving over to the back of beyond, about TWO MILES from the parking lot down a cement alley we call main street that is back by cement buildings. So we are all packing up our offices (I am #8) and moving over to the old upholstery shop so the guys at the BoB can move into our offices and then we can move into their vacated space. Sound simple?

Except half the people moving are tied up in super duper high security something else, so many somebody elses have to pack for them. (I've moved people out of offices and set them back up elsewhere....and it is always just a little awkward to see what kind of junk people keep in their in boxes. Messy.)

So yesterday, I asked my first line supervisor exactly WHAT THE HECK he was planning for me to be doing? (Always just ask. Much quicker that way.) He said he didn't know. So when I saw HIS boss in the parking lot, I asked him. He said he didn't know.

I did not believe either one of them, since it is impossible for me to be going in to work every day with no apparent assignment for apparently the next 300 days. (Well, 600 days, if you count all the holidays and vacations and weekends. Immaterial.)

So today, a scant 24 hours after being today that neither one of them had any idea what i would be doing, I got a memo telling me that I would be sharing an office with Glenda. Huh. Glenda told me LAST WEEK that we were going to be sharing an office.

However, I still have no clue what I'm going to do. I thought I was going to be doing some kind of GED thing, but Frank told me that today HE was doing the GED thing. Plus, we've hired three new teachers....and where the heck they are going to put them is beyond me. Unless, of course, I'm in the line for a medical retirement (hello, 90%!).

So tomorrow, I'm borrowing some thugs to drag my stuff over to the old upholstery shop and then "draw" a line around it in masking tape and mark everything with a big "8" so that on Friday, different thugs can move my #8 stuff into my new #8 office. With three windows.

The view? Two hallways.

Of course, the office I really wanted has that one way mirrored stuff on the windows and doors. Much more entertaining.