Where to draw the line?

I officially have a work-wife. We've joked about it for months now as our projects have continuously intertwined, keeping us here till all hours of the night, forcing us to call each other even after we leave to talk about which vendor is sending proofs for approval to our personal emails at what time in the middle of the night. We eat together, text each other when stuck in morning traffic and basically spend more time with each other than we do with family. It's an uncommon relationship to have with a co-worker; lucky for me she's first and foremost one of my favorite friends. I've often wondered if it's because of our work situation...or in spite of it...that we continue to enjoy each other. Really though, I don't dwell on it too much because I'm usually too busy laughing at whatever it is that Stacy has just said.

A few weeks ago, close became on top of. Certain areas of the company are now under construction and as a result Stacy and I became refugees, relocated to a small conference room on the other side of the office for about 2 months.


I took this picture of Stacy and our...stuff...to show a friend of ours that we weren't exaggerating when we said we basically sat on top of each other. Upon closer inspection I realized that the sqaure foot of table we each have as a work space can quickly become a complete disaster. Also, we consume a ridiculous amount of beverages.

Today, the excessive number of cups, plus the fact that I'd lost my mind, resulted in Stacy asking, "Is this mine?" We'd recently come back from The Coffee Bean, she with a medium coffee, me with a small americano. With eyes glued to my monitor, my right hand had reached out and grabbed the wrong coffee, leaving my small cup on her side of the table. As I'd gulped down that sip of coffee, I had thought to myself that it tasted strangely different than the previous sips, but clearly I'm very busy and important...too busy and important to pause and wonder why exactly my tastebuds were telling me something was wrong.

Stacy: Is this mine?
Me: Whaaa?
Stacy: Huh?
Me: Oh, for crying out loud. I just drank your coffee! Sowrry!

Cups are exchanged and then Stacy removes the plastic lid and tosses it in the trash.

Stacy: It's not that I think you're yucky, I just don't want to take any chances with getting sick.
Me: I'm not at all offended. I drank your coffee because I'm a brainless imbecile right now, so you do what you gotta do.

Stacy giggles and seems to be inspecting for any cooties that may have jumped from lid to cup. I pretend not to notice and secretly wonder if it's because my lips feel particularly dry just then... Do they look as dry as they feel? Can she tell? And where's my bleep-bleep lip balm gone to?!

Me: No wonder it tasted funny...it had Splenda in it!...yuck!...and non-dairy creamer!...ugh!
Stacy: AND I have the tickle of a sore throat! Hahahaha! That'll really teach ya!

I guess this means that we're extremely close friends, but not to the point of sharing hot caffeinated beverages. Considering our current arrangement of sharing whatever is on our monitors, whatever is said during phone calls, every yawn and outburst of frustration, and that - horror of horrors - there is someone there to watch you as your mind goes blank and you stare at the wall...well, I'm ok that we appear to have drawn the line at beverage swapping. I really do hate Splenda and non-dairy creamer.