Somehow I think a Dexter bobblehead is not what I'm going to want on my desk when I find another job

I usually try to make my workspace reflect who I am, within reason. This usually means nothing overtly political, though I did have a poster-sized version of what until recently was the most famous recent New Yorker cover, New Yorkistan, in my office until late last week. I'm taking home seven-and-a-half years of personal stuff a little at a time, so that a) I can make what's happening real, when it's tempting to think it's all just a bad dream; and b) I can avoid that "leaving with a box" horror on my last day. It's going to be bad enough that day trying to keep my tear ducts and dignity intact without leaving with a pathetic little box of crap that means nothing to anyone but me. And besides, after that much time in the same place, I'd practically need a moving van instead of a box to get all my crap out of there.

My newest work-friend and lunchtime walk buddy offered to take my "lucky bamboo", which has turned out to be not so lucky for me (at least so far), though I'm still looking for a home for my leggy Kalanchoe. Both these plants are toxic to cats, and after the Infamous Maggie and the Final Blox Incident, which cost me almost $600 in vet bills and medication, I'm steering clear of things Maggie might find interesting to munch on. I've brought home about a dozen boxes of flavored teas, leaving the rest for the post-departure Stuff Grab, which happens after someone leaves and the survivors pick over the remains. I've even brought home my Salton hot tray, which I've had since 1977 and which I rarely use at home but have used frequently at work for various bridal showers, baby showers, engagement parties, holiday pot luck lunches, and the other Rites of Passage celebrated in the workplace.

How much of all this crap will find its way to a new workplace (other than my desk fan, which is mandatory equipment for us Women of a Certain Age), remains to be seen. But as tempting as the Dexter bobblehead is, I'm going to refrain.

But here in the near-dog days of summer, when there's nothing on TV but the resurgent Mets, the nightly parade of horrors on Countdown, constant reruns of old Clean House episodes, and Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives, we're looking forward to another season of Dexter. And while ComicCon is underway, you can catch a preview of the new season, which starts September 28.

We here at B@B can hardly wait.

Neither can Brandy (h/t: Skippy).