I feel sort of itchy in my nose and also kind of sneezy, as in I sneezed once, so inevitably this is it. I’m Rona Barrett. The fact that I have not spoken face to face with another human since December 25 is beside the point.
I have to go to work today, actually, so I hope I don’t spread this faux ‘rona. For a month now, my keyboard isn’t exactly working, and I have to press the Shift key about a hundred and nine times to get it to make capital letters. Everything I type looks like I’m e.e. cummings. Or his very inclusive sister cc cummings.
Finally, I alerted IT, which always scares me because by the time I’m (argh. That “I’m” took me 50 tries) done at IT I feel like a bumbling old lady. They always ask some questions that you couldn’t possibly know the answer to like, “Are you wired?”
“Well, I’m a little wound up, but.”
So I have to take it in to the actual office from noon to 2:00, so I guess this means today I have to put on pants and stuff.
Elizabeth Gilbert said if you work at home you should make your bed and get dressed every day. So I’ve done that, although I’ll stretch that, “It’s still morning” robe look till 11:00 sometimes. But when I get dressed it has been leggings and a t-shirt or, in winter, a sweatshirt. I even bought two pairs of shorts this summer. I haven’t worn shorts since we all enjoyed the Reuben Kincaid hair shift commercial on Nick at Night.
So that will be weird. Pants, I mean. And going to the office, I mean.
IT has been going to work this whole time. I think they’ve done it in shifts, like one goes in one day or something. I plan to run in there, drop off my laptop, and scream out. Then I’ll go down to my floor and get my picture frame.
For Christmas, my mother sent me the original recipe card of one of Grammy’s cookie recipes, a cookie I eat every Christmas and really why so filled out. Why the leggings.
I got the brilliant idea to frame said recipe and get it out as a Christmas decoration each year. I found a black-and-red-plaid picture frame on sale, then got the “YOUR ORDER HAS ARRIVED” notice (that all-caps just took 109 tries) and then I saw the shipping address was work.
Also my boss got me something ridiculous in her travels and left it on my desk so I have three—three!!!—reasons to go in. Threeee! Ah ah ah.
I’d better go. I promised marketing I’d copy edit some stuff for them and I don’t want to screw that up by not having my computer for two hours today. Also I have to shower and try to squeeze self into pants. I know I’ve gained at least 10 pounds and that depressed me so much I didn’t weigh myself again, but then I wanted to know how much Forest weighs, so I bit the bullet, not literally, and turned on the scale but mercifully the battery had died, and it takes this weird nub of a battery I don’t own.
I made him get on that kitchen scale I use for the foster kittens and he was most perturbed so the best I can tell you is more than 9. He weighs more than 9. I think maybe he weighs 10 pounds. He’s 10 months. Further reports as developments warrant.
And for all I know I weigh 415 and I’m tryina get into my regular chubby June pants. I’m not getting on the kitten scale to find out. This whole plague has ticked me off.
OK, talk at you.