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Throop out? Is that a Seacrest reference? Because that’s disturbing.

The one on Colfax looks pretty good—I made an appointment for us to see it later. If you can't come, I'll just check it out myself. I just wish you'd let me move in with you until we find a place. I can't believe you made me move in with Dwight. :-(

Off to another meeting—should I try to keep Michael out of trouble, or get him into it? The age-old dilemma…

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You've only been at Dwight's for one night - how bad can it be? I know you think it's ridiculous, but Roy and I lived together when we were engaged, and you know how that turned out. I know—you’re not Roy. (Oh, my God! Thank God you're not Roy!)

For what it's worth (nothing, I know), Kelly thinks I'm doing the right thing. She says you'll leave me at the altar if I live with you first. She's still convinced that you're just not that into me. (I’m pretty sure you were the other night, though. ;-)) Plus, with all this wedding planning, this gives us a little break from each other every day.

And I didn’t make you move in with Dwight. You could have moved your stuff into a storage unit and lived in a motel. You were the one who wanted to save money for a honeymoon in Australia…(okay, I want it too!)

Hey, you never told me how you tricked him into letting you stay there rent-free. Bobblenapping? ;-)

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How bad can it be??? You've got to be joking. Last night included a beet picking 'party' in the moonlight, complete with beet smoothies and a "Name That Beet" competition (which I sucked at). Also? Dwight has German Shepherds to detect Terminators, and they’re truly frightening. I don't know what Dwight will do if the beet farm dogs decide I'm a T-1000.

I’m really not sure this is worth all the money I’m saving. Plus, I’m a little insulted that you think I tricked Dwight. He’s letting me stay with him rent-free because I only reported a quarter of his disadulations to Corporate. I am the best boss ever. ;-) (Also, it’s beet picking season—free labor.)

Speaking of wedding planning—I give in. We can have the flowers you want. But then you have to let me live with you until we find our newlywed apartment. If I stay with Dwight and Mose too long, I'll become one of “them,” a beet-pod-person.

(Hey, if you come visit me, I'm in bedroom 3. Try to avoid the dogs.)

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Jim, Terminators are a real threat. Schwarzenegger was ready to blow the top off the government cover-up until they gave him California. At least Dwight is trying to do what he can for his little portion of the world. You could learn a lot from him. Don’t! I take it back. ;-)

You should Google 'Scent-A-Way'—it’s almost guaranteed to help you with any killer dog problem. Also? You want Dwight to think you're a Terminator. It's the perfect prank. You're an excellent mimic, just like a Terminator, and you’re tall, and…that’s probably enough to qualify. I shouldn't have to tell you these things, Jim; this is basic stuff, like Pranking 101.

I'm sorry you hate the beet farm. Think how much more you'll appreciate the new apartment once we find it. And I'm not letting you come live with me because you give in on the flowers. I don't even want you to give in on the flowers. I want you to appreciate my taste in flowers, and realize they're a good choice.

Lunch in the break room at noon?

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Mose wasn’t happy about giving bedroom 3 to Jim—that’s where we stored the old school trophies. Clearing them out cluttered up bedroom 4, where the whittling tools and supplies were kept. I found my old shuffleboard medals shoved under the porch near the outhouse. Mose has always resented my shuffleboard dominance.

Jim's settling in all right. He's kind of a slacker in the fields, and he doesn't have the natural talent at "Name That Beet" that you have (he can’t even tell Kleine Bol from Chioggia), but at least he's agreed to pick. I think he misses Pam. He makes his mopey face a lot, you know, the one you call the "stupid Jim" face. Last night, after the beet picking party, he went and just sat in the west field. That's the direction Pam lives, so he's probably trying to be closer to her. (That field is fallow this year or I would’ve run him off it.)

P.S. Delete this email and empty trash.

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My strong Possum,

Your kindness and charity towards Jim, who has never been very kind to you, is admirable. Attending church with me each week is bringing out your Christian qualities. But sometimes, people take advantage of the Virtuous and it gets in the way of important things, like cookies. People need privacy to have cookies.

Pam and I have a limited at-work friendship. I'll exploit that.

Your cousin Mose resents many of your superior abilities. Insist that the shuffleboard medals be stored in his bedroom to re-establish your role as the dominant male cousin.

Your sweet Monkey

P.S. Delete this email and empty trash.

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Pam,

Jim must have known that his lease would be up before your wedding date. A planner would have looked for an apartment long before now. Why you chose a man like that for your mate, I don’t know, but you did. Now it’s your duty to help him find a place to live, so he isn’t homeless and taking advantage of Dwight’s charitable nature.

Of course, I would never advocate people living in sin, but it’s not like it would be anything new for you. After all, you lived with Roy for years without the sanctity of marriage before you so hastily set him aside.

But that is neither here nor there. You have to see that your actions are adversely affecting the lives of others. Certain people have certain standing plans which now cannot take place. This is very difficult for certain people. I feel sure you know what I mean.

Please keep in mind that concentrating is difficult in the middle of such turmoil. It’s fortunate that I am not personally affected by your situation, given that I have the enormous responsibility of painstakingly signing and distributing all the paychecks, including your own.

I pray fervently that this situation is resolved immediately.

Angela Martin

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I know you wanted me to generate those really important financial reports for you, but I may not be able to; Michael said he has a special project for me this afternoon. Plus, I’ve been getting these bothersome e-mail messages which take up my time and distract me. I should be able to get your reports done before the corporate deadline, if the annoying e-mails stop. I feel sure you know what I mean.

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Pambone! Could you look into getting Jan a breast pump? It should be one of those where you can do both at once, with like a…double boober thing? Don't tell anyone about this—remember it's a secret project! Don't even tell Jim. Oh, right, you wouldn't, he's at the beet farm hangin' with Dwight and his weirdo cousin!

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Congratulations on Jan’s pregnancy! But Jan may not want you to tell people yet. A lot of times women like to wait to tell until they’re sure everything’s okay. Also, she may not even want a breast pump—some women don't. This doesn't seem like an urgent project.

I've asked you not to talk to Jim or to me about the beet farm. This includes through e-mail.

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Pammary glands! There's no baby (yet)! This article in Maxim said that nothing's better for a man's virility than a little snack of warm milk fresh from the source, and you need to prime the pump (get it?) to get those puppies working. Don't mention this to Jan. It's a surprise for her. The article said women like it too, because they like to nurture their men.

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Michael, don't believe Maxim, ever. Remember the leather problem? That was Maxim, too. Jan won't like your surprise, and I won't be getting you a breast pump. Also, I've canceled your subscription to Maxim. Don't try to contact them on your own—I told them you died. I will find out if you contact them, and then I'll cancel the rest of your magazines, even Magic Magazine.

I've copied all of your e-mails that mention boobs, puppies, ‘buoyancy bags’, etc., to Toby. He'll send them to Kendall at corporate any time I ask him, or automatically if I’m fired. NO TALKING ABOUT JAN'S BREASTS. OR MINE.

I'm taking the rest of the day off, since you keep holding up coffee mugs to your chest and asking Jim if he misses me. Stop bothering Jim, or I'll call Jan and tell her you don't really have to work late all week, and you'll be home at 5:15 every day. You can try to lie your way out of it, but she'll believe me, not you—just like last week.

Stay out of trouble this afternoon. I’ll know.

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Michael was being himself again, although even more so than usual—don’t ask! (It was another Maxim idea.) I reported him to Toby, so I have a chance to get out of here early. :-)

I'll see you at the apartment on Colfax. I hope the bedroom's nice and big! I don’t suppose we’ll have enough privacy to test it out. ;-)

Let’s take a break from wedding planning tonight, okay? Let’s just see the apartment.