“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 597 (Wednesday)

Another work at the office day. These are not my favorite days. I have considered this and figured out why I like working from the house.

It’s a control thing. It exists at home. Cold? Run upstairs for a sweater or boost the heat. Hot? Boost the A/C or open the windows or drink some refreshing ice water. Hungry? Hit the fridge. Or the pantry. Or the fridge and the pantry. Don’t like what was planned for lunch? Switch it up, the food is only a few paces away.

Stuffing with chicken, onion,
apple, cranberries.

This magnificent level of personal control doesn’t exist at the office-office. Heating and cooling cannot be adjusted by us, but I can pull a blanket from a drawer to fight the freeze. Food is a hassle with having to remember to pack a lunch, and too bad at lunchtime if the packed lunch is no longer appealing. That happened today when the corn bread stuffing tossed with chicken, cranberries, apple, and onion lost its luster before it was time to eat it. There would be no foraging for replacement lunch, and like a true adult, the lunch that was already bought and paid for was eaten. It didn't even heat all the way through, but when the chill in the middle was discovered, someone else's lunch was spinning on the carousel. I just kept eating it.  

Winston has a rebellion that takes place on office-office days. Every day that I work at the office-office, I arrive home to a pile of his displeasure on the kitchen rug. This doesn’t happen when I work at home. On the remote days, he goes all day between poops, so I know it’s possible. The only reasonable explanation is the pile is a protest against having to wear a diaper for nine-plus hours and not receiving any treats during the day.  I totally get it.

There was a dental appointment scheduled to have the stitches removed from the tooth extraction of a couple weeks ago. The office sets an appointment time, then says to arrive 30 minutes in advance. I arrived early enough to have a few minutes in the car to listen to the latest round of scam calls in voice mail, which today included a suspicious call about my student loans, (which I haven’t had for decades).

I entered the dental office and had barely sat down when summoned to the inner sanctum. My temperature was taken and declared “perfect.” After barely a  minute in the exam room, the stitches were removed, the next appointment was scheduled, and I was out the door. I was back at my desk ten minutes before the actual stated time of my appointment.  Maybe there is a method to the demand of arriving 30 minutes early.

Poop protests are tiring.

After work, as I was walked down Merrimack Street, a woman of indeterminate age but much younger than I am approached from the opposite direction and said that she liked my hair. I thanked her, and immediately considered postponing the hair appointment scheduled for next weekend. Half a block later I found a shiny penny gleaming on the sidewalk. When I got home, there was the pile of displeasure to dispose of, but then there was a refund check in the mailbox from the oral surgeon’s office I had just visited. It equals about one-third of the cost I had to pay on the day of the surgery. 

Thank you, speedy dental visit, lucky penny, and substantial insurance adjustment. This day turned around nicely. Winston, likely exhausted from the protest, is now napping.