“Remoted” – Day 483 (Monday)

The weather app, checked to assist with the day’s wardrobe selection, said “light precipitation.” Meanwhile, monsoon season was raging. The dogs refused to go outside. The basement was taking on water in multiple locations.

The puddle at the end of the driveway was broad, and rolling the recycling and trash to the curb required heading left into the neighbor’s side of the shared asphalt, then skirting the street edge of the puddle to arrive at the destination along the fence. It was either that or wade straight through the puddle, but the new hip waders haven’t come in yet.

Recycling was collected around 7:45. To keep the bin with the now open lid from becoming an accidental rain barrel, I went back out in the downpour and rolled it along the scenic coastal route back to its spot near the deck. A raincoat kept my torso dry, but my hair got soaked and my pants below the hem of the coat. 

I had to go into the office this morning, so all the trash bin activity was done in office clothes. The day’s outfit was ankle pants, an elbow length tee, and lightweight zip front blouse/jacket, built from the ground up based on footwear that was flat and vinyl, chosen for water repellant speed walking the quarter mile from the garage to the bank in the rain. Black ankle pants were chosen based on the shoes, because my full-length pants are a bit too long and require heels. Because I absolutely detest the popular bare leg look in general and my legs in particular, I now avoid wearing the dresses and skirts I used to love. The tops were chosen for office appropriateness and in case it was cold in the office. The wardrobe analysis and dressing were exhausting. Not dealing with that every day might be the best part of working from home. 

Tiny assembly line.

The office was creepy. I was the only person on the entire floor. Printer access was messed up, so I couldn’t even print the overview sheets intended to be included in the branch packets I was there to assemble. Against the soundtrack of rain slamming onto the roof and windows, interoffice envelopes were addressed. Materials lined the counter and were placed in the envelopes which were set into boxes and then inside a trash bag to keep them dry as they were transported to the mail room. A call was made and the packets magically disappeared. The mailroom magician was the only person I saw the whole time.

By noon, in addition to the branch packets, I had deleted voice mails from my phone and cleaned my top desk drawer, where a cable with USB at one end and phone connection at the other was found that I hoped would work in the Jeep’s media port but later learned it doesn’t. The plants looked dry so I watered them. Items obviously out of place were returned to where they belonged. The sink counter looked icky so I wiped it.

It was becoming clear the office had too many distractions. The surroundings felt new and I kept noticing it all, but it was keeping me from my projects. At least it stopped raining for a while and I headed home to check on the dogs, the basement, and work the rest of the day remotely on marketing stuff and not office housekeeping.

At home, Moose’s diaper pants were soaked. The basement waters had receded. Work was accomplished in the environment where I’m already numb to the surroundings and don’t notice the things that need doing. Order and balance were restored.