Dear anyone who knows I am trying to give up the caffeine:
I’M GOOD ON TEA. THANK YOU. GOOD ON TEA.
I’m like that joke about the kid who was just a head (“Not another hat!”). You know what I might could do, is take the tea out of the boxes and just put the bags in that bowl. Why did that not occur to me till now when I saw them all crammed in there like chickens at the poultry plant?
But speaking of receiving things, I don’t know about you, but I am getting boxes galore lately, and I’m certain it’s fun to be a UPS or FedEx or postal delivery person this year. What a pain in the ass we all are. Mostly I am getting boxes of tea from well-meaning people. But yesterday I got an ENORMOUS box, bigger than my promiscuous college roommate’s, and I was pushing it over to the “things that are obviously Christmas gifts” pile but there was a little PICTURE of what it was inside, which Dear Box Designer: There’s this holiday, see, where we all surprise each other with gifts, see, and if you put a PHOTO of the gift, see …
Anyway, it was the desk chair I admired! For all this time, this whole work-from-home year, I’ve NOT worked at my desk because while my desk chair is vintage and charming and you know I like vintage and charming, it’s all wood all the time and sitting on it is like sitting in a church pew, so I opt for my leather “cowboy chair” (that’s how they marketed it at the same damn vintage place I got the uncomfortable wooden computer chair) and my work laptop, and while the cowboy chair is comfy and offers me beans in front of a campfire, I do find that I’m looking DOWN into the laptop all day, which can’t be good for m’neck, which as you know needs several rounds of $700 shots that I won’t go get. Because $700.
So I longed for a good desk chair so I could sit normally at a desk, but $$.
And then, lo, an angel of the — a good desk chair appeared on my porch, and I was all, Who SENT this? And just then Ned called.
“Ned!” I said. “I just got a desk chair in the mail!”
“Goddammit!” said Ned.
“???” I said.
“I sent you a desk chair,” he groused, “and now someone else has too.”
I never said that Ned was bright.
It turns out they told him it wouldn’t get here till January but here it is, here in NOT YET January, unless he’s right and two people sent me the same green chair and anyway here it is.
Isn’t it magnificent?
So today Ima work at my desk for the first time in 10 months of working at home and we’ll see how that goes.
Yes, I AM working this week. I’m not going anywhere so why not work? Things will either be berserk or so quiet I will organize my teabags. That’s how Christmas week usually — oh hang ON, someone just send me a work email at 8:16 a.m. Let me go see what THIS is.
…Oh. It was the thank you email. From someone who doesn’t yet know how I feel about the thank you email.
There’s no need to thank me for doing my job. There really isn’t. I mean, thank me with a raise, or a giant shout out at a big meeting. But don’t send me an email thanking me for sending the work. I’m not worried you “got it.” It’s email. You got it. If you didn’t, THEN YOU CAN EMAIL ME saying, “Hey, did you forget to copy edit that thing, you damp ham?”
Anyway, that’s how I feel about the thank you email. Eventually people know this because eventually I deliver that diatribe and I am a pleasure of life. I am a pleasure of work.
Some people email me to say, “I know you hate getting thank you emails but thank you!”
I realize I’ve become the old scary woman at work.
So that sums up the weekend, other than I ran out of canned kitten food, not that Forest is starving as he caught 1 vole, 1 small snake and 1 cute little field mouse this week. The rodents, he ate. The snake, he left. Thanks. Let me send an email: THANKS.
But I had these two large boxes, larger than my promiscuous college roommate’s, of kitten food on the shelf, and I just kept reaching in there for a can like it would last forever, like they were Everlasting Gobstoppers, and one day one box was empty, so I reached in the other and it had one can.
So I dashed over to Chewy, who might as well name themselves Juney, and ordered more cans TOOTSWEET, but they have yet to arrive because see above re everyone getting boxes. So this morning, for the first time since he got here in August, Forest found himself sans cans.
He has DRY food. He’s not STARVING. But oh, is he annoyed. I swear his FUR is drooping. He’s walking around with his head low. And every time I get up, he dashes to his bowl like I finally remembered. Like as soon as I put a can in his bowl he’s gonna email me, “thangsz!”
My ex-best-friend and I used to talk on the phone maybe 20 hours a day, and her husband, her now-ex-husband, who by the way I miss and who knew? Anyway, he would do this thing where he’d walk into the room she was in and half open his mouth and raise his eyebrows as if he were about to say something but got frozen in time by Endora on Bewitched. This was his not at all manipulative way of letting her know he wanted to say something to his wife who was on the phone 20 hours a day.
Anyway, that’s Forest right now. Any time I move, he’s got his insistent face on.
I feel TERRIBLE about this and as soon as his cans arrive I will plop one in a bowl whether it’s a mealtime or not.
Poor canless Joe Jackson.
Anyway I guess I’d better “go to work,” which means sitting here waiting for work. But in my good green chair. Which might be from Ned or maybe Ned and some other person at the same time.