Like the proverbial frog boiled slowly to death, the parents unable to see how much their child has grown in the past year having watched that growing day-to-day, I’d similarly totally missed the fact that Cyan’s office has somehow gradually become a complete and total shit-hole.

Granted, it wasn’t great to begin with. Having outgrown our prior office, but with more hiring on the not-too-distant horizon, we needed a temporary space to hole up. Hence our current digs, which are indeed cool (in the Village, with a gated courtyard, and very high ceilings), but completely ill-suited (it was built as a loft apartment, not an office) and already a tight fit when we moved in.

Because we knew we wouldn’t be here permanently, we skimped on setting it up in the first place. And it’s gone downhill since. Our conference table chairs (West Elm) have cracked sufficiently that a giant splinter from one recently tore a hole in the ass of my suit pants. The white walls have slowly scuffed to gray. Piles of files, DVDs, trailers, and posters have sprung up like fungus. And, speaking of fungus, the entire place has started to smell a bit, in a way vaguely reminiscent of a frat house basement.

So, even though we think we’re only here for another half year, tops, I’ve now reached the point where I can’t even stand to look at this for many days more, much less weeks or months.

A painter’s swinging by tomorrow morning to give us a quote, we’re weighing options for replacement chairs and lights, and we’re considering where we might hang the Cyan movie posters we’d long been holding off on framing.

And, even after all of that, it probably still won’t be good. But, at least, it won’t be a painful embarrassment whenever anyone stops by. Which, at the moment, would be a pretty big improvement.