A little music, a little hot cocoa, a little peace and quiet, and things are falling right back into their normal routines. But tonight, that doesn't seem to be such a bad thing, to have the comfort of habit to snuggle up with, as the sun slips beneath the horizon. Like a warm, fuzzy afghan wrapped around your shoulders, as a summer storm pushes the branches of the trees outside, in a frenzy of motion. There's something to be said, for having some small spot to call your own, where even the most powerful forces of nature, have to knock before entering your door.

Tonight I am enjoying my cocoa, in the most ridiculously oversized coffee mug known to man. The kind more to resemble a watering trough than your average cup of joe. At the last moment, I even opted for the mini marshmallows to make my comfort in a cup complete. Let it never be said, that I do anything halfway.

As luck would have it, I have an interesting story to share from work today. One in which reminds me greatly of a line in "Dirty Dancing", when Johnny is teaching Baby how to dance and she keeps tripping over her own toes and onto his. "Look, spaghetti arms." he says, "This is my dance space. This is your dance space. I don't go into yours, you don't go into mine. You gotta hold the frame." A good lesson for all the touchy feely people of the world to take to heart, especially when they are the latest head sitting on top of the totem pole.

Which brings me to the subject of the FNG, which in the P-rated version of the acronym stands for Friendly New Guy and not the R-rated alternative I surely meant. It seems the latest member, of our ever so professional sales team, has a slight issue when it comes to recognizing the limitations of personal body space. All the women in the office have taken notice to his notice, of anything sporting the least little bit of cleavage. Now a sneak peek now and then isn't such a bad thing, lord knows I've checked out many a man's gluteus maximus. But a full out and out stare that reads like a full page add, stating your intentions to find any way possible to climb on in, beside the girls is a bit much.

But believe it or not, I am getting away from my story, where a simple folder drop off, turned out to be a very strange encounter. It all started in the data entry office, the precise moment in time when my back was turned to the door for just a second. Depositing my folders, in the bin designated for such a purpose, I turned myself around to leave, only to find myself face to face and quite literally chest to chest with the FNG, who in some bizarre game of let me see how jumpy you are, if I sneak up and scare you, was practically breathing down my neck. "Step back yo.", I thought to myself as I tried extracting myself from the claustrophobic position I found myself in.

Things went from bad to worse, as I realized that my left hand was in a very precarious position. "Aww man!" I groaned to myself, "Don't you dare move any closer!" As it was, my hand was already touching the fabric of clothing, that was not my own. He of course, giggled. (God save me from a man that giggles.) I didn't even bother to attempt to decipher what kind of giggle it was meant to be, as I stepped back and reclaimed my PBS (personal body space). "Nice going Doogie." I said, "If you're trying to give a girl a heart attack you're coming frightfully close."

For now, I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt, that he's just trying to fit into the office with some hijinks of his own. However, another replay of today's scene and I can promise, that he and I, will be having an extremely well defined conversation regarding how close is too close. It may just start with a well placed heel on an unsuspecting toe ...