“Remoted” Workday 167 / Day 248 (Thursday)

This week has felt like a month, and it isn’t quite done yet.

There have been new domestic developments and revelations. It took a while, but the realization finally dawned that the home-office space where I now spend most of my quality awake time, is the coldest spot in the house. Prior to April, no time was spent in the former kitchen nook. It was purely decorative with no useful purpose.

When the new desk and chair arrived and were set up, it was spring and beyond the prolonged winter chill. Now that the temperatures have already dipped into the 30s and winter seems to be upon us, the artic climate in the corner has become obvious. On the bright side, according to the National Institutes of Health, “Shivering triggers brown fat to produce heat and burn calories.” I have no idea what color my fat is, but the idea that my daily freeze will control fat and burn calories makes up for the guilt of not regularly exercising for approximately the last 248 days. 

For mysterious reasons, my formerly faulty sinuses and largely absent sense of smell have reactivated. For the past four days, the smell of cigarette smoke has been a near constant companion. I don’t smoke. The only thing my neighbor smokes is weed in his broken down car with the concrete block holding the trunk lid closed, and this is clearly not that fragrance. In the past, sinus infections were accompanied by the pungent smell of cat pee, so maybe this is a new disgusting aroma.  

Winston, who was initially an angel about taking his insulin shot, has become fussy. Twice a day now, he scooches away, turns his head, and won’t stand still as I try to administer his shot. What used to take about 15 seconds, including ridiculous levels of praise post shot, now takes a couple minutes to wrangle him and get it done. The aerobics of dog wrangling, coupled with the fat and calorie burn from shivering, may qualify as a low-budget fitness program, so that is a bright spot.

Last night, while binge watching 30 Rock and after enjoying a snack of Town House crackers with peanut butter and Fluff, there was an accidental acrobatic performance. While arising from the couch to return the empty snack plate to the kitchen, my foot became caught in the cord to the laptop that had been set on the ottoman. Unlike the 5,000 times that the cord has come out of the laptop when looked at sideways, this time it stayed securely attached. While my left foot was held captive, the rest of me kept moving with impressive forward motion. Gravity and technology won and there was crash landing on the floor. It hurt.

Thank goodness for
freezer ice packs.

The plate sailed out of my hand in a graceful arc like a Frisbee brand flying disk. Unlike the crash landing in the living room, the plate made an impressively soft and delicate landing in the dining room. A stream of cracker crumbs followed behind the plate like the tail of a comet. The dogs, startled by the thud when I hit the floor, paused only momentarily before racing to the plate and crumb trail. I was on my own on the floor. After a stunned and unplanned brief rest on the floor, it took an agonizing minute to get up and limp to the freezer for an ice pack.

Walking was difficult for the rest of the night. Taking the stairs up to bed was a slow and painful ordeal. My slammed knee hurt enough to wake me up during the night and keep me awake. Today it is better. The constant pain has been minimized and it hurts only when I put weight on my right leg. As long I sit still, it's a pain-free situation. 

At least tomorrow is Friday. It is, right?