Cabin fever really set in last week. Well, attic fever, to be more precise. Rhi and I do our endless data entry holed up in a little room at the top of the stairs, with some servers and a very quiet secretary for company. Every time she leaves the room, we degenerate into behaviour not seen since kindergarten. Chronic boredom seems to have pushed us to the brink of madness. There's hair pulling, tickling, stomping on toes, Chinese burns, graffiting of limbs with highlighters, and very nasty insults. As soon as we hear the secretary on the stair, we drop our weapons and nonchalantly resume our typing. Eight hours of daily attic confinement combined with living together has taken its toll. It all came to a head on Friday when Rhiannon "accidentally" smacked me across the face. "Whoops!" she said. "I didn't mean to do that. Really." "Really. Really?! What the hell is happening to us?" I cried, rubbing my nose. "We've become savages!" "I know! We're worse than the Romans! Killing people for entertainment!" We sat there contemplating our sad state. A mere hour later, Rhi got a call and was offered a job elsewhere. A real job, with a desk of her own, no attic, no data entry. She starts tomorrow. Left alone I will no doubt start talking to myself, but at least there will be an end to the violence.