It's 23 degrees on the fourth floor of our new office, on Tara Street in Dublin. How do I know? I'll tell you how. My Irish Times pen-holder-cum-alarm-clock-cum- birthday-reminder also has a thermometer.
This dinky gadget was in the welcome pack that was on our desks when we arrived at the new office for the first time.
The goody bag also contained two fancy chocolates, a snazzy silver photo frame, a blood-donor key ring, a plant, an Irish Times mouse mat, two Irish Times coasters, an Irish Times ruler, a cuddly elephant and a cube-shaped Irish Times glass paperweight. (I am fibbing about only one of the items in this list.)
This moving-office lark is gas. It's like a second chance, a new beginning, a perfect opportunity to reinvent yourself and wipe the slate clean. When I walked into this box-fresh building for the first time it felt like starting secondary school - you know, that feeling you got when your pencil case was packed with sweet-smelling erasers and your best intentions were clear in your head.
I decided, as I always used to at the start of each year at school, that I wanted to reinvent myself as a swot - or, in this case, as an organised member of staff who never misses a deadline and can be relied on to come up with at least 10 brilliant ideas a day. This lasted for about a minute, or the time it took me to find my desk, which, just like at school, was at the back of the class, out of sight of the teachers. Total result.
We have a kitchen in the new place that is twice the size of my kitchen at home. I plan to stock the giant fridge with all manner of healthy goods, so that, come lunchtime, I can whip up a salad of mixed greens, apple, cucumber, radish, carrot, feta, red pepper and beetroot crisps, with a splash of coriander vinaigrette. In reality I'll probably just be heating up ready meals in the shiny built-in microwave.
Another big change is that we now have little swipe cards with our pictures on them. You are nothing without a swipe card these days. They say it's for security, which is all very well, but for me it's just another item on a long list of items that I am likely to lose. I've been experimenting, though, and have discovered that you can swipe the machine while the card is still in your handbag. That's the tactic I'll probably be employing. I just have to remember to put the card in the bag. And then remember the bag. Aargh.
It's Swipe Central around here. You have to swipe to get past the security guards in the foyer of the building, then it's another swipe when you reach your floor. You have to swipe again when you visit a colleague on another floor, and, naturally, you can't get out of the building without another little swipe, just to be sure to be sure. Big Sister is watching. I swipe therefore I am.
Still, there's no point sniping about swiping when you've got underdesk pedestals with sections for pens and paperclips. I've gone a bit stationery mad since the move.
As much as I love this new working environment, I have a slight issue with the feng-shui situation. My problem is with the colour of the partitions that divide the desks. As far as I recall, when we all came over here a few months back we were asked what colour we would like the dividers to be. And, as far as I recall, most people liked the look of the blue ones. Restful, they said; easy on the eye. And, as far as I can ascertain, what happened then was that the people who make these decisions decided that the best move for all concerned would be to make the dividers mustard yellow.
Here's how I imagine the conversation went.
Office designer 1: "They want blue. They love the blue. They think they will work more productively with blue dividers in their eyeline."
Office designer 2: "But the only dividers we have left in the warehouse are a mustard tone."
Office designer 1: "But they'll go mad. Mustard yellow is a shocking colour to have to look at day in, day out."
Office designer 2: "You never know. What with the fancy kitchens and the microwaves and the sections for pens and paperclips in the underdesk pedestals, they might not even notice the manky colour."
Office designer 1: "True. And have you seen the goody bag?"
Office designer 2: "Exactly. That's one classy paperweight."
"Office designer 1: "Grand, so. Mustard it is."