Homing from Work
Gettin’ shit done
Of course I miss Daisy and my fridge – Daisy was reading over my shoulder while I wrote that, a little wistfully, so I put her first, you know, implying I miss her more than my fridge which I certainly do at the start – but come 9:45 or even 9:30 I have forgotten about her and am pining for my fridge.
I wander aimlessly through the lightly populated hallways rather than mad-dashing down my worn tracks with purpose
I think the real reason none of us want to go back to work, at least for those of us who shop and cook and keep home, is that for the past two years we’ve been able to get all our shit done during the day, AND keep on top of our work work, which means for the past two years we’ve had our evenings to ourselves. We’ve been able to relax and enjoy. But suddenly there’s no dinner we’re out of milk where’s the home-made bread and I don’t want to list any more because the truth fucking hurts.
So now we Home from Work
I’ve got a Metro close by and a Longo’s so I run out get this and that, plan dinner, there’s a Canadian Tire for whatever’s not food (gotta quit with the heavy fucking plants I’m like Arte Johnson on the GO Train except nothing and nobody is actually verrrry interestinnnng) and a dollar store, too, a Home Hardware, a Winners(!), a Bulk Barn, all of which I visit almost daily as I strive to get it all done but alas, fuckit, haven’t mastered it yet, still running around in the evening with a bitter taste in my take-out mouth.
When I was working from home it wasn’t always easy getting it all done during the day either, and there were evenings I had to work an extra hour or two, but I almost always pulled it off. We’ve had bread consistently, home-made beautiful stuff as you can see by the way my clothes fit or fucking don’t, so all that AND I’ve been super-busy at home the past six months which wasn’t actually a segue when it started but you should have seen the email I sent out yesterday.
Backstory is my workplace is just fucking humming, so much to do, the campaigns are all approved and now it’s producing them, rolling them out in all the different sizes for all kinds of applications, digital and print including a billboard or three hundred near you, and maybe your toothbrush.
Also they are putting out a 150-page book commemorating the Queen and everybody’s shit is long lost. (Take a minute and read that sentence again without the last word. Thank you.)
If it were up to me I would have had this book at the ready for two years
I mean fucking duh, what the fuck did they think was going to happen? You know, I would have taken my time with it and make it beautiful, update it now and then with a few smashing new pics and up-to-the-minute stories, so when the time came you would only have to press “print”.
I mean the casket carrier dudes were certainly prepared, and I know there’s a better word for them – it’s just not coming – but they practiced two years carrying the Queen’s approximate weight in a lead-lined casket.
As you know I prefer speculation over googleation, fuck off spellcheck, but I can’t come up with any logical reason this would be done, the lead-lining I mean, but plenty of illogical ones including the monarchy are getting all King Tut on us and she’d need the lead in the afterlife to weigh her back down to earth.
Still with me?
Anyway back to eyerolling and dull people some of whom think a phone battery is low at 35% and others who think wine is for sipping, and I have a plate full of work instead of toast, and here comes the part about the email.
I heard you say fucking finally btw or at least think it
People who were put on the 150-page steeplechase can’t do their regular work so I am taking a great deal of the load and yesterday I sent out an email to several colleagues who are working with me on a doozie which I can’t start until they give me a brief, images, etc. so I sent an email reminder, not friendly but not not, telling them I need everything Friday morning, as in today, and here’s how that email started:
