Are you getting kind of tired of deciding which room to sit in every morning, or do you have, like, a new routine already, where you do all your work at the desk and that’s it? If so, I’ve never understood your kind.
In yet another move that rendered me oddly prepared for this apocalypse, I took my work laptop and charger home, a thing I never do, back in February before all this happened. This means I can take this laptop all over yonder, even outside, although the glare, man. Why can’t they fix the glare sitch?
Normally, when I’ve had the rare occasion to work from home, I’ve had to sit in the wood chair I bought at a vintage-goods store, which is cute but not ergonomic.
I’d have to sit in that wooden chair and work from my desktop computer like it’s 1999. Except in 1999 I had one of those colorful Apple computers, remember those? Marvin and I each had a computer in the same room, at different desks, like we had our own business or something. Like we were the LaLanes and he was at his computer in his onesie jumpsuit.
I like how my first thought of a couple with a business is, inexplicably, the LaLanes. I don’t even know if Mrs. LaLane—and how long-suffering must SHE have been—even WORKED with what-energy Jack. Maybe she did the books.
Anyway, Marvin and I did not have a business together. Really, I just emailed people and he looked at music shit.
Why’d we need two computers, really? It was dumb. Plus TWO giant desks in one room.
But I digress.
Anyway, now, I plug the laptop in at night, because I CASH that thing every day. By 5, it’s like on its last legs. Its last leg with a pointed toe like Jack LaLane. It’s always a little race—can I work till 5 or will I kill it by 4:45? But the next day, I take it from the pluggy place and work in the living room a bit, then here in the den, then I take it outside
and back to the couch. Sometimes I even work on the bed. No place has been ideal, really. But I’m sort of tired of choosing between these four rooms.
My next-door neighbor, not the one who drinks but the woman on the other side of me, is also working at home, and some afternoons we both go in the back yard for “lunch hour” at the same time. Our dogs wish to murder each other in cold blood, so usually our conversations have been limited to, “I’ll take mine in.” “No, no! You stay out! We’ll come out later.” But as of late, we’ve stood at our fences and chatted a bit, dogless. From 6 feet away. She LOVES working from home. She has a spot: her kitchen table. I can’t really work there RN because puzzle.
What part of it should I work on tonight? Oooo, I’ll do a poll! Hang on.
In other news, and there’s just so much news, what with getting up and working from home all day and never going anywhere, but in other news, I have my first workout with m’trainer again tonight, after two months of becoming sort of foam-muscled. Like, anything that was firm is now Lectric Shave. I guess Lectric Shave was that green liquid you slapped yourself with, wasn’t it? I can’t think of any foam.
EDGE! That was a kind of shaving cream. Edge! The only reason I know from shaving products at all is when I accidentally see sports commercials.
Remember back when they decided shaving cream should come out as a gel first and then foam after? Why? I remember being FASCINATED with it, even though I did not shave. I was forever pumping a little out to watch that transformation. And to think, back then I could actually go out.
Anyway, we are VIRTUALLY working out. The other day, she texted me. “I just left some weights and resistance bands on your porch.” I was all, you DID? This house is 999 square feet. Old Watchdog Eardog, over here, really turned in a stellar performance guarding the house.
I better go. It’s 8:27 and I want to get to work by 8:30. BAH. This commute, man. It’s killin’ me.