4:26 PM EST.  I am alone for the first time today and am free to
talk.  Officemates #1 and #2 have, respectively, persuaded me that 
the office climate is optimal for homo-sapiens and that officemate #2
does not talk to, nor does he expect replies from, his computer and
that any further public comments to the contrary would be considered
libel or slander or one of those other offenses not covered by my car
insurance. 

4:34 PM EST.  My headphone cord continues to impede my movement, but I
have learned to live without the use of my upper arms.  Putting on
deodorant with my arms pinned has proved challening, but my newly
assigned machine shop privileges should prove helpful.  In keeping
with the medical theme to my work, I will begin construction of ``A
Remote Manipulator System for the Application of Personal Care
Products by Those Whose Arms Are Pinned At Their Sides.''  I am
considering submitting a grant application for telemedicine funding.
Much money has been allocated to silly things like remote neurosurgery
and remote radiology consultation while solutions to the problem of
dealing remotely with our own armpits has not even been explored.

4:38 PM EST.  I am beginning my list of requests for the new building.
I've replaced my idea of having a jacuzzi with a more reasonable
request for two jacuzzis.  It would be unfair for me to have one and
for everyone else to have none.  Of similar importance is a
gymnasium-sized room tightly packed with cotton balls.  One could
essentially swim to a comfortable spot and then lay still for a
several hour nap.  Wireless e-mail enabled cottonballs could provide
the necessary link with the outside world during such downtime.