Your author’s career-long journey of itinerant, grousy keyboard-for-hire disillusionment has given me… well, something. I am an excelloent typist, and the Wall Street Journal belatedly gave me an unflattering stipple portrait of my own. Oh, and also: I have compiled, in my mind, something of a treasury of “isn’t work just the worst” quotations from various writers. There are certainly more resonant ones than Don DeLillo’s characteristically terse (if uncharacteristically straightforward) assertion in Underworld that, “capitalism strips the nuances from places.” But look around you, at the office in which you are likely reading this post. The dim cubicles and hissing flourescents and dense industrial carpeting. Dude’s got a point, right? That plain aesthetic fact makes Sunday’s New York Times article about green office spaces that much more interesting a read. For pure voyeurism, it’s hard not to admire the super-green work spaces at TriBeCa’s Green Spaces and Dumbo’s Green Desk. Considering that the office from which I do my posting doesn’t even recycle, it’s virtually impossible for me.