“Remoted” – Workday Twenty-Six (Saturday)

Second snowy morning of the week. I couldn’t find any info in my thorough, 45-second internet search for local snowfall totals this winter, so this could be way off the mark, but it feels like our two mid-April snowfalls were more than what we got in all of January. It also seems that moving the shovel, skis and snowshoes from the back shed to the enclosed front porch in the fall in preparation for winter snow activities acted as a snow preventative, and their recent return to the shed seems to have inspired the snow. The snowfall didn’t last long, and neither did the accumulation.

Work was moderately busy and the canine overlords were models of calmness and civility for most of it and left me alone. Moose napped in the bed near the desk most of the day, snoring softly. Meanwhile, Winston, aka King Hopalong, was perched on his couch throne, lording over the living room in a regal and quiet manner. Around the time I was wrapping up work for the day, Moose became restless and embarked on his  daily dinnertime begging spectacle. It’s a Broadway extravaganza that starts with whining that grows to a barking crescendo. There is dancing around me with footwork that would make the Rockettes proud as he tries to herd me to the food closet. The only thing lacking is costumes. 

Like most days, the pre-dinner histrionics began with still more than an hour to doggy dinner time. I’m reluctant to alter the feeding times under the assumption that eventually things will return to the old normal. It will be enough of a shock to the pups when they are again swaddled in their doggy diapers, and I leave the house each morning and don’t return for eight to ten hours at a time. Also having their dinner time changed could lead to a revolution.

The star likes to stare.

After dinner is when Moose presents his post dinner show. This production is heavy on penetrating stares from the lead actor, delivered from various distances. Scripting is limited to overuse of the special bark that sounds exactly like “Out, out,” used by the overlord to signal his desire to be on the other side of the entry door. The audience participation component involves approximately 1,237 trips to open the door, for which he really wants to go out only three or four times, and all the others are because he wants a cookie. It’s exhausting. Apparently for both of us, because the star naps after the performance, but at least then he is quiet. Thank Dog for small miracles.

“Remoted” – Workday Twenty-Five (Friday)

Today was a day of waiting and wanting. I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted a FedEx truck in my driveway as much as today. Almost every day, at different points in the day, a FedEx truck and a UPS truck each back into my driveway to turn around, which triggers an alert from my door security camera to my phone. These trucks are part of a stream of roughly 25 cars each day pulling in to turn around and trigger alerts, and yes, I sometimes get all Clint Eastwood “get off my lawn” aggravated.

Anyway, today I WANTED a FedEx truck in the driveway – specifically, I wanted the FedEx truck with my wine delivery in the driveway. Every one of the too many times that the dogs barked today, I was convinced it was the wine ordered last Friday. The only reason I opened and then finished my one bottle of wine last weekend was because six more were due this week. When it was ordered on Friday the 10^th, the delivery was noted as Tuesday the 14^th, which felt impressively fast. There was also a note on the site’s home page about heavy volume and possible delays which felt both realistic and reasonable, and if history is an indicator, there wouldn’t be a bottle opened before Friday anyway. 

Yay!

On Thursday the 16^th, there was an email from the winery stating the wine had shipped and still, amusingly, showed a delivery date of Tuesday the 14^th. Is Doctor Who in charge of this wine distribution and is it being delivered in the TARDIS? Because that would be the most impressive wine delivery in the galaxy, and I would sign for that program up for life. 

Huh?

The FedEx tracker showed a delivery of Friday, April 17^th “by end of day” which provided something to look forward to. There was also a button for more specific tracking, which revealed very little. It showed that a shipping label was created on Thursday in Cobleskill, NY, and that was about it. The text alert was even more cryptic – it said estimated delivery was not available, adult signature - identification is required, and if I’m not going to be home, to let them know. Huh? 

At 6:00, which was the end of my workday, and had earlier boldly been deemed wine o’clock when there was no wine in the house, I checked the FedEx tracker. It still said Friday, April 17^th “by end of day.” Ummmm, tick, tock, tick, tock. Where does FedEx's “end of day” sit on my clock?

Over the next couple hours, while sitting on the couch with my adult identification nearby,  half watching “Married at First Sight” (Charlotte), wine was occupying a lot of space in my head. Most days, wine is not even a thought. Bottles have sat untouched for months, even a year, but today, there was a yearning for a glass of wine in a way like never before. There was reluctance to open one of the precious few remaining bottles of beer (which have lazed in the fridge since a Christmas Eve party),or fix a mixed drink, so convinced was I that the truck would arrive immediately after doing so, in the same way that the person you’re waiting for finally shows up when you visit the toilet.

Over and over the tracker was checked. Over and over it said, “Friday, by end of day.” Finally, at 8:00 there was a cryptic update on the site that said the “estimated delivery date is pending.” What, what? The passage of time delivered negative progress, but no wine. Finally, at 8:37, there was a text update that “delivery is rescheduled for Saturday the 18^th.” Sigh. I hope the “rain turning to snow with slippery road conditions” forecast for Saturday does not further hinder delivery. Thank you FedEx for turning my wine into ice water tonight. It’s probably just as well – I volunteered to work tomorrow. 

“Remoted” – Workday Twenty-Four (Thursday)

Talk about a crazy day. Woke up with a raging headache. There was snow on the lawn and the car and still falling steadily from the sky. In a couple of hours the snow was gone, but not the headache. The weather forecast is for more snow on Friday night. The delivery forecast is for wine to arrive Friday. Overall, the forecast is good.

Winnie's hobbling. Again.

Effective today, Winston is a three-legged dog. Again. Over the past seven years, he has alternated injuries to both rear legs. The first time it happened he had laser treatments which may or may not have helped. Surgery was mentioned as an option, but due to the cost and absence of certainty, it was declined. Winnie deftly maneuvered on three legs for weeks or maybe it was even months, until one day he was back with four on the floor. Shortly thereafter, he injured the other rear leg. It’s happened periodically over the years, but he’s been mostly good lately. So good, that he’s been jumping the past couple days, which is probably why he’s a tripod dog again. I'll be carrying him up the stairs and the Winnie 20-pound weight program will resume. Injure. Hobble. Heal. Repeat. Oh, Winston. Old age stinks buddy. 

Sausage and breaded eggplant.

Dinner was fun. The eggplant from last week’s produce box finally met the knife to fulfill its destiny as thin slices coated with a mix of bread crumbs and wheat germ and baked crispy. A little sauce, some mozzarella, and a hot Italian sausage, and dinner was yummy. Cooking is fun when I feel like doing it, and by design, there are leftovers for the times I don’t feel like doing it. With strategic planning and rationing, the five remaining sausages cooked tonight could last for several weeks. It's funny what feels like a victory these days.

“Remoted” – Workday Twenty-Three – Wednesday

The crack in the bottom corner of the laptop screen is getting worse, probably due to the commute from living room to kitchen and the need to sometimes shift the screen angle. The fear of computer shopping in the immediate future is adding a fine veneer of stress to things. Having just bought  the laptop 13 months ago, the anxiety from that purchase is still a bit fresh, when a fantasy of again playing video games caused me to spend much more than I needed to. What was I thinking? Reality has shown that my laptop is used for Facebook and Scrabble, Word, and now for work. There has been no movie watching, no video games. At least I know there is no need to spend $1,200 on the replacement unit.

Noodle kugel for breakfast!

It wasn't until after dinner I realized it was kind of a weird food day. Breakfast was noodle kugel made the other day (not to be confused with potato kugel or matzo kugel). It’s a sweet one, with apples, pineapple, and raisins and was chosen for breakfast for ease and speed. Lunch was an instant ramen cup, chosen for speed and convenience, and dinner was leftover fettuccini with leftover veggies, again chosen for speed and ease. There seem to be themes emerging with the food today – speed, ease, and noodles. So many noodles.

It’s the gap time between Amazon deliveries arriving and the money having left the account. The way some of the orders charged in bits and pieces, it practically requires a degree in forensic accounting to figure out what charged and if anything else will still be coming out. 

In a couple weeks the pantry will be restocked with a bunch of stuff I barely remember ordering. It's already been days of "Did I order the granola bars/ chili/ tortillas/ canned plant-based pretend hot dogs? Was the mayo in the successful Pantry basket, or is that the Whole Foods cart that never has an open delivery window?" 

The delight of receiving forgotten wanted stuff coupled with the disappointment of not receiving the things that were sold out or were edited out of the cart, will carry all the elements of Christmas as a kid. And just like Christmas, the wait is feeling like forever. 

It will be nice to ease up on rationing granola bars and mayonnaise. Without a lot of storage, I operated in the "JIT - just in time" inventory management theory, and restocked as needed. That was  before I decided to see how long I can stay at the house without leaving -- which was done without benefit of preparation. It's been 30 days so far, and I haven't even left the house to take a walk. There hasn't really been time. And who knew all the time spent in my room grounded and sulking over being stood up by dates in high school would come in so useful in adult life? I may have to be dragged back into society, kicking and crying.

“Remoted” – Workday Twenty-Two – Tuesday

Remote Workday 22 / Hermit Day 29. The work part was the busiest I have been since I don’t know when.

Today, I had two people sending me data sheets and I entered 29 accounts. For comparison, my highest count before today was 14. It could have been more, but a few inefficiencies in the system prevented it. There were a few instances of inaccurate data that needed research. One person sending instructions would attach the data spreadsheet with the message. The other would send an email with the name of the account in the subject line, and I’d have to go to the server and look for the sheet. Guess which was faster. My total would have been 30, but the last two I received had issues. One had too many digits in the NAICS industry code and the other I couldn’t find the sheet on the server.

When there are no issues with system lag, math errors, zip code +4, or NAICS code, and just one or two owners on the account, I can enter the info in under 10 minutes. Part of the credit goes to the new mouse and keyboard. Even thought I write with my right hand, I mouse with the left. The new keyboard has the dedicated number pad on the right hand side, so I can type numbers right handed and use the mouse to move to the next cell with the left. It would never be that fast on the laptop keyboard and touchpad.

Moose, the barky one, and Winston, the needy one.

The dogs were extra needy today. Winston seemed bored and restless and made frequent appearances near my chair to tap my leg with his paw until I patted his head. Moose tested his vocal chords and my patience with constant whining. It’s a miracle I got anything done.

After work, during one of Moose’s 1,000 trips outside to pee in two hours, there was a bit of something happening at the end of my driveway that seemed to involve a big red truck, the lady next door, and a small white car crammed with males.

Like I do a million times a week, I was standing at the door watching Moose do his business against the side of the house, which, while not favorite my spot, is definitely better than inside the house. The driver of the car full of clowns which was most likely leaving the never-ending party across the street, stuck his head out of the car window and yelled at me, “Mind your own fu$%ing business.” Umm, excuse me? Gawd, I don't want to hate, but I really hate the people that come and go from the house across the street.

“Remoted” – Workday Twenty-One – Monday

The morning was gray and raining and the forecast was for crazy heavy winds. The kind of winds that come with warnings from the local weather group on Facebook, text alerts from the power company about possible outages resulting from downed limbs and power lines, and an alert from work about what to do in the event of power loss while working remotely. This storm is no joke.

Breakfast today was my childhood favorite – cinnamon toast. When I was a kid, this was a rare and special breakfast treat, but as an adult fully aware of the low degree of difficulty and minimal ingredients, I have no idea what made cinnamon toast the least served breakfast in my childhood home. For speed and ease, it’s the simplest breakfast on the planet. Well, not as simple as unwrapping a granola bar, but it's pretty simple.

Monday in my neighborhood is trash day. Once a week, the little wastebaskets from the bedroom and bathroom are emptied into the larger kitchen wastebasket. This is where it gets exciting. When the flip-top lid of the wastebasket is removed to tie up the bag and remove it, Moose goes from zero to 100 in the blink of an eye. He barks and yelps. He thrashes like a toddler who just had his favorite toy taken away.

When the bag is carried through the dining room to the front door, he runs alongside, still barking. Then, as soon as the door is opened and we go outside, he stops. He is suddenly quiet and no longer interested in me or the bag of trash. Maybe he doesn’t want the neighbors to see that he’s nuts. With only minor variations, this has been the weekly trash bag routine for 3.5 years. And with the trash bag fanfare, the workweek begins.

For unknown reasons, logging into the system this morning was quirky, and it only got worse as the day wore on. During data entry, there were problems with really stupid things like zip + 4 codes and basic math and frozen screens that caused a 15-minute activity to take exponentially longer. Over and over again. It was frustrating. 

Canine naps were often interrupted
 by my random swearing.

After 9.25 mostly aggravating hours and many, many swear words randomly yelled at technology at sufficient volume to startle the dogs from their napping, it was finally over. There was not much patience or mental capacity left to make dinner, so it was a three-minute ramen cup for the win. Then some Cool Ranch Doritos. I feel much better now.

“Remoted” – Sunday Four (Easter!)

The morning had a leisurely start when Moose let us sleep close to 8:00. I mean no sacrilege, but it felt like a modern Easter miracle right here in Pawtucketville. It was much needed extra sleep due to the accidental finishing of the bottle of Merlot during and immediately after the Zoom cyber cocktail party with friends the previous night.

While enjoying coffee and a delightfully dry granola bar, there was a welcomed call from my Mom with Easter greetings, and various text messages from friends and colleagues with Easter wishes. There were no Easter decorations at the BungaLowell. It seems like a waste of effort for one person and the dogs don’t appreciate it. Plus, I gave most of the decorations away before moving back from Tennessee under project “less to pack.”

Early in the afternoon there was a knock on the door. It was two friends wearing masks and gloves and delivering a basket of cheer including fresh eggs from their chickens, bread, hand sanitizer, and toilet paper which was left on the “contact-free” table on the porch. The perfect isolation Easter Basket! Then, we chatted across the recommended safety span, they on the lawn and me on the porch with the window open. My friends really are thoughtful.

Later in the afternoon, the party-hardy neighbors across the street hosted another one of their open house gatherings that featured lots of people, double parked cars, and a couple hours of noisy dirt bike racing through the neighborhood. No helmets on the riders. No license plates on the bikes. No regard for rules or safety of any kind. But that could just be me being annoyed and judgey.

Greens and fettuccine.

Today’s menu lacked any and all of the traditional Easter fare. No ham or lamb, but those are things I generally wouldn’t cook any way. My meat repertoire is comically limited to hot Italian sausage, tube sausage, in-store roasted chicken, sliced Lebanon Sweet Bologna, and various brands of fake meat. There is no special reason, just easy to manage. 

Lunch was a mix of collard and carrot greens sauteed in olive oil with onion, garlic, sweet peppers, and carrot. This was tossed with jarred eggplant and red roasted pepper spread (sold at Big Lots, and so good!), and served over fettuccine. It was nothing like anything at previous years’ Easter dinners with family, but this is nothing like any Easter of the past. It was easy to make and quite yummy. 

Zucchini sushi.

Dinner was inspired by the helpful “Facebook Memories” feature and a recipe posted on my timeline in 2017. There was zucchini in the produce box that arrived the other day, and there was cream cheese, sriracha, carrots, canned tuna, and a vegetable peeler in the kitchen, so it was “zucchini sushi” for the win. The next time, the zucchini needs to be sliced a bit thinner, so it will be less tricky to roll. The combination of whipped cream cheese and sriracha sauce is very tasty.

Today’s indoor entertainment offerings included a movie with the stiffest acting by an entire cast that may have ever graced the screen (“The Killing of a Sacred Deer” with Nicole Kidman and Colin Farrell), a nap on the couch with the dogs, and my new social distancing hobby of online grocery shopping. The stuff that caught my eye today and made its way into the cart is amusing. There was Spam in my cart. Yes, Spam, which has never been much more than a subject for mockery in my usual life, but there were faint childhood memories of sliced fried Spam frolicking around the edges of my mind. It was a temporary situation and was moved to “save for later.” It seems I’m not ready to commit either way yet.