Mostly because Nate makes me.
Especially in the summer, when I sweat for 4.5 months straight, the last thing I want waiting at my desk when I arrive is a full-frontal man hug. But since I can't seem to get out of bed until 8 am--and then to work by 9--Nate makes the rules about our greeting style. And I just have to go along with it, the way the roommate has to take whichever bunk is leftover when he shows up to the dorm second with his parents and the U-Haul.
With all the focus on work-appropriate behavior, there's always a chuckle from colleagues when we're spotted back in our corner every morning, hugging and back patting. But we stick with it, and our other work-surival traditions. We run; we talk about the show New Amsterdam; on Friday afternoons, we go to Starbucks. I'm pleased that when Nate moves, he'll go with a roomy Americano in his hand, rather than embarassing himself by showing up South of the Mason-Dixon line sipping on a caramel frappucino.
Yeah, Nate's moving to Charlotte. He and Kate have an affinity for those southeastern ch- or sh-sound cities, like Charlotte and Chatanooga and Jackshonville. And in a few months, when he's wfh in front of Ann Curry's worst-yet interview in North Carolina, I'll be rolling in to headquarters at 9 to find a new desk neighbor. And I'm while I'm curious about what new traditions we'll build together, I'm more curious about who will greet me each morning, and how.