Java.NOV.2016

Working from home also means that I spend
eight hours in my underwear, and it is usually
around dinnertime that I realize I haven’t
brushed my teeth yet.
I decided I would start getting up and getting dressed as if I were going to
a work place. By lunch, I had spilled coffee on my dress, and it just seemed
forced to wear heels and a blazer in my “office.” I was back in PJ’s by noon.
My office is formerly known as the spare bedroom/oversized closet. Despite my
best efforts, it has slowly taken those storage responsibilities back on, as the
tower of clothes, boxes and other things gets taller each week. In the event that
I do have a video meeting, I carefully keep the camera aimed at what I call the
professional zone, the square inches that make me look like a professional adult,
one who definitely does not conduct business in terrycloth.
Another side-effect of working at home has been way more long, drawn-out
conversations—with my cat—and sometimes with houseplants or a picture of
my dad. So far, none of these things have talked back—a pretty good indicator
that I am still sane. When someone else comes home, I am so excited to talk to
them, but see, they have been talking to people all day, at work or school, so they
want some quiet time. I kind of linger around the vicinity, checking in every few
minutes to see if I can talk yet.
Getting fat is another work-from-home danger. There is food everywhere and a
stove and dinner leftovers. Occasionally for lunch I will treat myself to a cooking
show. I mean, my cooking show. I talk to the food and an imaginary audience
while I whip a little something up. It reminds me of when I was younger and I
imagined myself the heir to Julia Child’s PBS cooking show and performed for
my mom, sister and brother. My specialty was a dessert I called Sherter Berter,
basically just a well-stirred bowl of ice cream. But now, it’s just me, the cat and
the plants. I don’t want to complain, but I’d appreciate a more rambunctious
audience. And the cat always acts like she has something better to do.
For all the potential craziness working from home can induce, it is also dreamy.
In fact, I like it so much that sometimes I feel guilty. I work longer than I have to
and actually write down the time I take for lunch, or if I am distracted from work
for more than a few minutes. These people are trusting me, dammit! I will not
abuse their investment in my honesty, and so I ultimately spend a lot more time
working than if I were at an office, wasting time yapping with people all day. As
I’ve mentioned, the cat conversations get pretty dull.
So this is why I have NPR on all day long. I need background noise. Talking noise.
And I am so excited for November 9, so I can hear the talking about something
besides this insane election. Although, I expect it will be a month more of contesting
the election and whatever other nutty conspiracies pop up as distractions. Even so,
I see the light at the end of the tunnel. And it sounds even better than it looks.