I walk through the door of my office and am treated to the sight of a colleague dressed in the uniform of one of the guys who works in the cafeteria and I understand that it has begun. In fact I understood that on my way in when I walked past Moses throwing a Frisbee to Batman.

Purim’s already finished and yet somehow it hasn’t. People here seem to love dressing up so much that they just can’t stop. I wish they would. I walk past numerous wigged employees, randoms wearing sports uniforms and managers dressed in drag before I reach my desk. Why oh why must it be this way?

I sit at my desk and am asked by a horse why I’m not dressed up. A girl who I know for a fact has not run the marathon turns around to look at me; “you haven’t dressed up” she announces to the open plan monstrosity which somehow is still deserving of the word office, “why not?” she demands of me.

I sigh.

I put my head in my hands and slowly the jumbled collection of hands and head slump down onto the desk. A baseball star walks into the room, I recognise her get up as being from the movie A League of their Own. Beyond her I spot the big boss wandering around with a basketball in the crook of his arm. The fact that he has dressed up has not endeared him to me.

I am sure he doesn’t care.

Perhaps I should just go home and hide from the vampires and zombies that are wondering around here. I ask a bizarre looking pool table if she thinks I should leave and she stands up, balls and all and walks away whispering to a leopard while looking in my direction.