“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 945 (Tuesday) – comfort lava

You know those days where things start out maybe a little rough and then just get rougher? Yeah, me too.

The Monday night thunderstorm rolled in just as I was trying to go to sleep. There was thunder, vivid lightning, wind, and heavy rain, and somewhere in the racket, I thought I heard a dripping sound, which is a great sound for instilling paranoia, fear of leaks, and keeping sleep at bay. Eventually, sleep arrived, but I woke up more tired than when I went to bed.

Luckily, it was a remote work day with no video meetings because the reflection in the mirror was not that of a well-rested person and no amount of concealer was going to help. The bags under the eyes were definitely not designer accessories. 

The best part of a morning routine is the ability to sleepwalk through it. Muscle memory guided the measuring of the royal kibble, heating of the royal chicken bone broth, chopping of the royal chicken, and finally, the brewing of coffee for the human servant to the Canine Overlord. Before the caffeine kicked in, things moved at a glacial pace, but afterward, the pace was normal.

Remote work days are my favorite outcome of the entire pandemic. No commute, just log in and get going. The day’s priority on the to-do list seemed straightforward – check a data list, segregate the data, do a file merge for three letters, prepare and send proofs for review.

The best laid plans of marketing folks are an awful lot like the best laid plans of mice and men. They go awry. Even the simplest of tasks involved sidestepping landmines and forward progress knocked backward by new info from elsewhere. The letter project took most of the day.

Comfort in a bowl.

Lunch was the exception to the day’s aggravation and thank goodness for what seems to be an endless supply of soup in the freezer. A block of frozen soup plus a can of red beans, some frozen veggies, and a splash of milk heated over a low flame while I continued wrestling with the letter crap. Soon there was a delicious, comforting, steaming lunch. It was soothing. A little hot, but that is why proper soup bowls are great for cooling the surface area quickly. 

The afternoon hot cocoa break, taken to seek more comfort before my head split wide open or I punched a wall (or both), was a different story and more like the rest of the day. For the first time possibly ever, the water was measured for the caramel flavor hot cocoa and it turns out that six ounces is a ridiculously tiny amount of water. All of my mugs are significantly larger than six ounces, which explains all the crappy hot cocoa of the past.

The caramel cocoa smelled delicious. There was a sip. It was hellfire hot. The effort to spit it back into the cup failed and a stream of caramel cocoa lava spewed onto the keyboard. The accompanying  adrenaline rush launched me from the chair. Luckily, napkins were nearby and the lava mop up began immediately. It’s possible the keyboard is now cleaner than when it arrived in the box from Staples, so there is small comfort in that benefit.