There is a downside to working from home, all by myself. Some might say that it’s causing me to become even stranger than I already am, but those people are hopefully not within stabbing distance, because I have a mug full of dull pencils and I’m not afraid to use them!
[Not that I ever use pencils. The children do. They use them until the leads are actually LOWER than the surrounding pencil barrel, then they return them to my mug and feign ignorance when my attempt to scrawl a phone number on my scratch pad yields only a faint squeak of wood against paper. “It wasn’t ME,” they both protest, looking around in confusion. Perhaps while I was working here, alone, all day, EVERY DAY, a gnome snuck into the house and ATE THE PENCIL LEADS. That must be it.]
Anyway, sometimes while I’m sitting around here by myself, I begin to realize why people maybe shouldn’t spend most of their lives alone.
This morning I made Otto a sandwich, while I was packing lunches, and then I remembered that he had A Thing today and didn’t need a packed lunch. So I put his sandwich in the fridge for ME to eat for lunch. No biggie.
And then when I got hungry, today, I pulled it out and ate it. Mmmmm… turkey salad.
It was 10:30.
It’s possible that if I was in an office with other people I might’ve realized it wasn’t lunchtime. I’m just sayin’. (In my defense, I didn’t eat breakfast today. But still.)
A few months ago, our portable phones started dying that kind of slow death that only portable phones can. The batteries started only holding a charge long enough for a person to say, “Hey, how are you? Oh wait… hang on… the phone’s beeping at me, I need to… hello? HELLO?”
So, being logical people, we bought a new set of phones. I got one of those fancy 5-handset deals, because when you hardly ever use the phone, it’s important to have a lot of them, apparently. And the new phone has DECT something and broad-spectrum something else and it never beeps to indicate it’s losing the signal, even if I’m out in the driveway or down back or whatever. It’s FANCY!
And then a couple of weeks ago it started. The phone would ring, and the handset here in the office would play dead. The display wouldn’t light up, you couldn’t turn it on, and you’d have to run into the next room to grab a working handset to actually answer the call. Then—because all the handsets are interchangeable—you could switch the handsets, thinking you’d outsmarted it, for the next time. But it soon became clear that the only handset that up and dies when a call comes in is the one CLOSEST TO YOU, and no amount of arranging the handsets or the bases has addressed this problem.
I can only conclude that my personality is so magnetic, I have actually broken our phones.
So I cleaned up my office for a television interview a few weeks ago, and I THOUGHT my desk was fairly tidy, for that, until I saw the clip. Then I wondered if everyone who saw the segment thought I was some weird hoarder, based upon the state of my desk hutch, which could most charitably be described as FULL OF CRAP.
So now I’m doing another interview next week, and logically I know that I need to empty out my ENTIRE desk and actually organize it. But if I do THAT, then I have to also tackle the book shelves, and if I do BOTH of those things, I’m pretty sure I will lose the will to live.
I mean, I don’t know where any of this stuff came from, even. All I really NEED for work is my laptop. And my little “Thou Shall Not Whine” sign. That’s it!
I love getting product samples in the mail, and thankfully my various jobs mean that the UPS guy probably thinks I’m one of those eBay addicts who lives in a maze of boxes. But lately I’ve found myself deeply confused by some of the things I’ve received. To wit:
— Writing me a three-page introduction letter about how all-natural and eco-friendly your product is when it arrived here tucked into the corner of a box easily five times too large (which was then topped off with a metric ton of packing paper) rather misses the point.
— I am never going to be thirsty enough to want to drink something intended to taste like a flower. When choosing a flavor, ask yourself if this is something a person would want to SNIFF or something a person would want to TASTE. Dude, there is no market for DaisyDrink. NONE.
— It is not that hard to put a piece of tape over the top of a lid. Honestly. It’s quite simple. Yet no one shipping me things in liquid form seems to have cracked this particular code, yet. Go figure.
The best part is that usually I rant about these things under my breath, to myself. You know, because I’m the only one here. But then this whole blog thing allows me to PRETEND I have coworkers to share it with, by telling you.
And if you stand around the water cooler and talk about what a weirdo I am, I don’t even have to walk past you and pretend I don’t know you’re doing it, the next time I need more coffee.