“Remoted” – Workday 145 / Day 212 (Wednesday)

Tuesday overnight was another night of interrupted sleep. There are long ago stretches of years and chapters of life where sleep was regularly shattered by nightmares or the stretches of insomnia that visited for several weeks each April and October. Now, it’s the Canine Overlords who are the thieves of sleep.

This time, Winston was the instigator needing to go out at the wee and glorious time of 2:30. He was standing next to the bed, doing his very polite “whisper bark” where he blows air out of his mouth that seems like his version of a human “ahem,” and marked the second night of him needing to potty, which is unusual. Of the three beings in the house, Winnie, until this week, was the one that managed to sleep solidly from 10 or 11 pm until 6 am.

Before bed, at the magic usual bedtime of 10 pm, which Moose still recognizes, the two dogs were staring at me as if to say, “excuse us, lady, but are were not going to bed?” They went outside and I brushed my teeth, two key pre-bed rituals. When Moose came in, he parked himself behind the office chair, near the treats, knowing that there is always a treat before heading up to bed. I told him to wait a minute, went back into the living room, got busy on the computer, and suddenly, it was 10:30. Moose, usually by my side, was nowhere in sight. He was sitting perfectly composed, still as a statue, still behind the desk chair near the cookies.

Bed hogs.

When we go upstairs to bed, there is an entire circus of routines and rituals before sleeping. Before we head upstairs, three biscuits are broken to make six or eight smaller bits which are carried upstairs. As I change into pajamas, the boys sit on the floor at the end of the bed and then we work on “stay” and then “paw” earns a biscuit bit. I walk across the room while they “stay” and I wait until it starts to feel weirdly long and tell them to “come.” Then it’s “paw,” and “other paw,” and the payment of the final biscuit bits and then we can go to bed. We used to also work on “up” where Moose would balance on his hind legs and twirl, but he’s too old for that now. They both need help getting onto the bed, and by the time they are on it and I get in, there is barely any room left in the bed for me. 

The Prime truck delivered the new mailbox ordered Tuesday and the hot cocoa packets ordered on the weekend. The regular mail included my mail-in ballot requested in August, so it’s time to finally read the booklet with the breakdown of the ballot questions. I’ve sat down with it three, maybe four times since it arrived, fully intending to read it, and never gotten beyond the inside cover page.

Mini, wee apple pies!

After work, the apple mini pies debated over the weekend were finally brought forth from the oven. Brown sugar and pears were added to the recipe in my own little flourish, and they are tasty little things. The refrigerated crust makes them quick and easy enough, so apple season just gained another treat. 

Hopefully, tonight will be full of long sleep and dreams of new mailboxes and tasty little pies served with cups of steaming hot cocoa. But even if it’s the usual night of one or both dogs either growling, barking, or whisper barking, it still beats the old insomnia and nightmares.

“Remoted” – Workday 144 / Day 211 (Tuesday)

The day was gray and rainy. Despite opening the mini-blinds in the kitchen office, the gloom required turning on the lights. With no distractions from things like sunshine and backyard critters, there was definitely no wishing to be outside. Focus and productivity were good, and it was actually a pretty good day for working from home.

The only reason to exit the house was to roll the trash bin to the street and roll it back up the driveway later. Both legs of the brief, rainy journey of the trash bin required an encounter with the puddle at the foot of the driveway. It’s a large puddle and sits a couple inches deep, and it’s been smaller since the street was repaved last year, but it still spans the width of my driveway and about a third of the way up. The dry summer meant it's been rare to have to deal with the puddle, but for today, there it was, the return to luxurious waterfront living. 

On the waterfront.

Despite the miniature lake out front and the day of alternating drizzle and rain, the basement was delightfully dry with no signs of waterpark features when I checked it late in the day. If the ceiling wasn’t so low down there, there might have been a little happy dance. Having already nearly concussed myself too many times on the ceiling beams which barely clear my head even when I’m wearing flat shoes, it was learned that expressions of joy over a dry basement are best delivered in constrained ways. At least until I get upstairs and regular height ceilings.

In addition to the dry basement, the day delivered other reasons to celebrate starting before work. It was day one of two Amazon Prime Days, and purchases were transacted. Last week’s Whole Foods order earned $10 off for Prime Days, and vinyl numerals for the fence ordered during the weekend's Support Small Business promotion earned another $10 off. Ordering the new mailbox (and a few other items)  using the discounts plus credit card rewards points meant the order cost exactly $0 out-of-pocket. Boo-yah!

An impulse Prime order of recent days arrived with chocolate chip cookies, a three pack of Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies, and 144 individual Caramel Macchiato coffee creamers (delicious in coffee, hot cocoa, and mocha), continuing the day's streak of good stuff. When the hot cocoa arrives in another day or so, stocking the cold weather hibernation pantry will be underway. Not that the cookies will last very long. One bag of Milano cookies is already two-thirds gone and rapidly dwindling. It is far less an issue of hunger and more the situation that they are just so fresh and tasty. It's amazing the level of contentment a $3 package of cookies can provide.

“Remoted – Day 210 (Monday)

The dogs were up overnight – first Moose at 12:30 am, then Winston at 2:30. There might have even been a 4:30 potty trip with Moose, but that could have been the morning before. The only time I really care about the times and tally is when I’m tired during the day and trying to piece together the cause(s). The dogs and I slept until 7:30, which felt great and Moose’s late sleep points to the likelihood there was, indeed, a 4:30 trip outside.

By the time the dogs were fed and the coffee made, the morning was half over. By the time I dressed in “regular clothes,” as in, not pajamas, it was nearly noon, the Supreme Court nomination hearing was on the TV, and I was wondering why they were holding it on a Sunday. That’s when I finally realized it was Monday. Oy. So confusing.

The sort of best doggies.

There was an attempt at artwork rearranging which somehow resulted in less art on the walls and more stacked on the dining room table. I wish this house would talk to me. In the many places I’ve lived as an adult, it’s never been as difficult hanging art and decorating as it has been with this house. Nothing feels right.

The dogs slept on the couch for chunks of the day, one on each side of me, snoring in full stereophonic effect. When they were awake, there were conversations with them, during which, as usual, they failed to uphold their end of the dialogue process. To untrained ears, it would seem that I was talking to myself, and luckily (or not) there are no other ears to overhear the rambling monologues. It also means there are no witnesses to the silly songs with which the dogs are regularly serenaded – delightful ditties about how they are the most handsome, smartest, sort of “best puppies evvvvvver!” Thank goodness. 

While the dogs slumbered, the online search resumed for a mailbox, numerals, and lettering for the gate that says “Welcome” to hopefully direct people to the front door instead up on the deck. The simplest mailbox fix would be new adhesive numerals, but the current mailbox is also textured and embedded with dirt that doesn't clean off, despite attempts with a brush and various cleaners.

Icky Mailbox.

The mailbox search went better than before and there are many nice ones, but only three that I like in my price range. The limited options based on price helps, as it is overwhelming when there are too many options of anything, whether it be cereal, dinner choices, or mailboxes. No matter how beautiful a mailbox is, I can’t see the point to a $150 price tag. Nothing I receive in the mail is worth that much money. 

Of the price range winners, two are metal, one is plastic, and none are the same dimensions as the current mailbox and will require new screw holes in the vinyl siding. The top choice for color (blue!) was ruled out due to height relative to the available mounting space. The next best choice was ruled out after reading several reviews declaring that the metal rusted at the hinges and corners after about a month. That leaves the plastic, low cost option which is great for the wallet, boring, but will look much better than the crappy one currently on the house. It will be nice to have it replaced. Now that there is a selection, I'm anxious to receive it. 

“Remoted” – Day 209 (Sunday)

Apples! And pears.

Sunday cooking involved spaghetti sauce that seemed like a good idea to have with polenta. When the sauce was well underway, thoughts turned to the packaged pie crust in the refrigerator. It seemed like a good day to deal with the bowl of apples. After too long spent thinking about but not making an apple pie, the idea shifted to individual pies, and the recipe search was redirected to hand pies and mini pies. Pillsbury.com, the masters of refrigerated crusts and biscuits, has a recipe for mini pies baked in a muffin pan where all the ingredients already exist in the pantry. Thanks to having reorganized the baking cabinet this morning, the exact location of the nonstick and cast iron muffin pans is known. 

The recipe was found while searching on the phone, which is an extra difficult way to work from a recipe, and I decided to write it down on a card, which is my preferred way to refer to a recipe. Recipe cards don’t time out, don’t need scrolling, don't have ads, and are portable, eliminating the need to keep returning to the computer that is too large for any counter space in my immediate cooking environment. 

A trip to the kitchen junk drawer for a card led to the kitchen/office computer where the mini pies recipe was found again and written down. Comments and reviews on the site included “filling is dry,” which wasn’t thrilling, but modifications to be more like my apple fruit crisp filling, which isn’t dry, might work. By the time the research and transcribing was done, the interest in making mini pies with refrigerated dough cut with a large cookie cutter had already been exhausted. 

The Internet search continued for another 40 minutes, this time for numerals for the house. The delivery folks have seemed understandably confused lately. Since the front yard fence went up, the ugly plastic mailbox with its peeling adhesive numbers that is affixed to the front of the house  is not as visible from the street. The search for adhesive numerals has already gone on for several weeks too long. The desired numerals are Art Deco style and can be affixed to the corner vinyl fence post at the end of the driveway close to the road. A new mailbox is also on the list of replacement items, but the preliminary searches have been as overwhelming as the search for numerals.

The numeral parameters are the easy part. Sifting through the results is overwhelming. Even when specifying "three inches," the results include every size from microscopic to gigantic. Even when specifying vinyl adhesive, the results include metal numbers that attach with screws. There were some numerals I liked, but the reviews indicated they tore easily during the installation. There was also a solar powered illuminated sign that seemed promising for its utility but wasn’t especially pretty. Each modification of search terms resulted in dozens of pages of results. There are now three set of vinyl numerals and two solar powered signs in the Amazon shopping cart, no final decisions, and I had to walk away. Hunger had set in. 

The hunger led to cooking a box of rotini for supper, with extra for a pasta, sauce, and cheese baked dish. Once the rotini was merrily boiling away, the original polenta supper idea was remembered. Rotini was eaten, but all the extra pasta might now become macaroni and cheese. There is also no apple pie, full-sized, mini, hand held, or otherwise. We’ll see what ideas flit through the kitchen tomorrow.

“Remoted” – Day 208 (Saturday)

The weather was beautiful and unfortunately, I had an appointment at the hair salon I go to in Worcester, which meant being indoors. My brother-in-law’s band was playing an outdoor show at a brewery later in the afternoon in a town halfway between home and the salon, which had potential.

After the salon, there was a return needed at Kohl’s, thanks to a late-night shopping spree a couple weeks ago that reinforced the lesson that some things should be bought in person. Pants caught my eye, they were on sale, and I bought them in all four colors available. When they arrived, they were not like I imagined based on the online picture with the model. The fabric was clingy, flimsy, and not suitable for wearing in public. At least not by me. I tossed them into the car before heading to the appointment with the hair stylist who gives a scalp massage that is so amazing she could probably get spies to spill all their secrets.

My silky, freshly toned and layered hair went to Kohl’s, where the return process was very quick. I should have left immediately, but instead, walked through the store. It was tidy and not crowded, which made for a pleasant shopping experience. There were cute jeans that were returned to the rack upon discovering the fitting rooms are closed, and I already knew the consequence of buying untried items. Tops are safer to buy without trying them on, and I ended up with three plaid flannels from the men’s department where the colors were better, the fabric felt nicer, and as usual, the prices were lower than over in womens.

Shirts on sale!

The clearance prices were an additional 20% off, and I had a 30% coupon that came in the mail which would make them practically free. In the checkout queue, I took out my phone to open my “Kohl’s Wallet” in the app and access my 30% off coupon. I couldn’t log in because I couldn’t remember the password, and let the person behind me go ahead. The system was supposed to send me a link to reset the password but it never came through. Before I finally gave up trying, I had let six people jump the line ahead of me.

The problem I have with Kohl’s digital stuff is there are too many logins and passwords. It seems like there is one for online shopping, one for the charge card, and one for the app, and I was not able to get into the stupid magic wallet holding my 30% off coupon hostage. The coupon came affixed to the latest promotional mailer I neglected to take with me, and I remember from working there that everyone claims to have the golden 30% off coupon. I wish Kohl’s would attach the stupid coupon that requires use of the Kohl’s charge to the actual stupid Kohl’s charge account. Because I couldn’t access my wallet and didn’t have the physical coupon, I was given the rock bottom 15% off. This “just login to your wallet to see your Kohl’s Cash and offers” is a royal pain in the arse. Of course, once home, I was able to log in as if by magic, and there was the stupid 30% off coupon.

After Kohl’s, my route out of town took me past the Habitat for Humanity ReStore, and the car autopiloted itself into the lot. At ReStore, I found a set of two white picture frames for my kitchen that were brand new and still in the original major store packaging for $1.49, and a gold wood frame that is perfect for an idea for the dining room. A record album rack for 99 cents may be the perfect solution for organizing the cookie sheets and cooling racks that are jumbled in the cabinet. Four small plates perfectly match my favorite dinner plates, and a quirky mid-century modern gravy boat for $1.49 had to be bought. It was a great stop, with a bag of stuff for under $10. 

Even after visiting the ReStore, it was still too early to go hear the band. I would have been sitting at the brewery for close to two hours before the show, possibly alone until people I know arrived, and that is a level of awkward I wasn’t in the mood for. The car was pointed home to check on the dogs, which allowed a thirty-minute window before heading back out in the same direction I had just come from. I knew it was 100% possible to accomplish, because that’s what my old, fun life in Tennessee was like, and years before that, my old, fun life in Worcester. By the time I pulled into the driveway, I had decided to make the trip back out. There would be sunshine, music, and friends and family in the remainder of my afternoon.

Entering the house, despite two dogs wearing pee belts, I was greeted by a massive wet pee mark on the kitchen runner. My best guess to the origin of possibly the biggest pee mark ever to grace our home is that it happened during the flurry of pre-departure activities. I can’t remember when they last went outside before they were pantsed-up. There was a battle with the industrial strength Velcro to liberate Moose from his pants, put both dogs out, and clean the pee from the rug. There was a much-needed, hurried, late lunch Fluffernutter to stave the hunger from not having eaten since 7 in the morning. With the sandwich on the plate I committed a fatal error. I sat on the couch, and after that, there was no hope of making it out the door to arrive at the band event in time, which is a shame, because my hair looked terrific. Maybe tomorrow I can tackle the projects involving the frames found today.

“Remoted” – Workday 143 / Day 207 (Friday)

Today required trying to be nice and it wasn’t easy. The dishwasher service call window provided was today between 7:00 and 8:30. In the morning. This is not a time when I am generally feeling especially sociable. According to the temperature showing on my phone, it was 38 degrees, and according to my thermostat, the heat was on. Coffee was in order.

Around 8:00 the dogs heard noise out front and I heard the dogs barking. Instead of entering by the front door, Service Dude had entered via the deck gate, which required him to squeeze past the bike stored on the front porch. I don’t understand why service and delivery people use the deck instead of the front entrance, but I’m starting to feel like I need a sign over the front door that says “Enter Here Dumbass,” although a “Welcome” sign on the front yard gate might be more hospitable. Service Dude waited in the enclosed porch, in the big space between the front door that opens into the dining room and the front porch storm door that opens to the front yard while I hustled the dogs out to the back yard where they barked a lot.

Service Dude took the dishwasher door apart to install the new black control panel on the white machine. Apparently parts for white appliances are now a rare and mythical item. He declared he needed something from the truck and headed outside. When he returned, he told me the dogs were in the street. There was one way they could have gotten there, and it was via the gate on the deck, which I keep closed for that exact reason. And the person who passed through it last was standing in the kitchen. While bolting out the back door, I said, “Oh crap, the gate on the deck must be open.” Service Dude immediately said it wasn’t him. Immediately and emphatically. Umm…. Ok.

The back gate was closed, just like I left it to keep the dogs from exiting the yard. A trip through the yard, up onto the deck and down the length of it brought me to the open gate, which I closed. Or more accurately, slammed, because I was pissed. The dogs were corralled in the enclosed porch, where I saw that Service Dude left the front door open. Wide open. On a not-even 40-degree day. While my heat is on. What frigging barn does this dude live in? 

Old machine,
new control panel.

Once the door panel was attached, he stood back proudly and declared, “I like it!” Well, good for you buddy. I think it looks slightly stupid having a black control panel on a white machine in a light-colored kitchen. But it’s what was available, was less than the cost of a new machine with installation, it works now, and it doesn't look completely awful.

Service Dude tested the door and the latch and the seal by starting the machine. Then he packed his little tool bag, took my check, handed me the receipt, and left. The machine continued to run. It was empty, of course, due to my diligent hand washing of the dishes for the past month.

After turning off the machine, I saw that Service Dude left behind a gift in the form of the broken control panel in the box the new one came in. What the hell am I supposed to do with that? Can dishwasher control panels go into regular trash?

To recap my exceptional morning service call, Service Dude left the gate open and the dogs got out into the street, left the front door open on a cold morning, left the empty dishwasher running after testing it, and left behind the broken crap he took off the machine. So, yes, it was awesome.

“Remoted” – Workday 142 / Day 206 (Thursday)

It’s not freezing, but I am. It was a day of being swaddled in winter layers of CuddleDuds, a pullover top, and a cardigan sweater. Not even turning on the heat and adding a ski neck gaiter, warm socks, and steady stream of hot beverages helped. My hands are like ice. So is my nose. It's 68 degrees in the house, so what exactly is the problem?

Being cold is one thing, but there is always more. Working remotely is feeling a little too remote lately. Life with no people and little human contact and no conversation for most of the day and all of the night is feeling a bit too isolated. 

Not feeling entertained.

There is a steady stream of technology annoyances and hiccups, some of my own doing. Stupid, dumb things like thinking I’m closing a file or a tab but closing the program or the browser instead. Or accidentally moving a work file and burying it inside another file where it would take a miracle to find it. The freaky laptop mouse/touch pad that causes chunks of text to jump elsewhere or disappear, or makes strange and confusing boxes pop up. Turning on the TV and getting the Xfinity screen of nothingness and having to reboot the cable box roughly every two weeks (or less) to get to the welcome in three languages followed by the promise of connecting me with my entertainment experience. 

The thousand tiny cuts of aggravation are causing some extra crankiness, but I'm living up to the full potential of the prophecy of the patch that Santa put in my stocking when I was nine or ten years old. It has Lucy from Peanuts and says “World’s crabbiest female.” Yes, I still have the patch, because as we know, I am a bit of a packrat. The condition will probably never go away, either.

Rice and deliciousness.

Thankfully, there are many things that go right that help to offset the deep vein of cranky. The dogs were little angels today, all adorable and cute. The work things that went right, went right. Lunch was a super yummy vegetable soup with dense bread and butter and supper was a tasty compilation of bits and things with rice and chips and queso. The mail finally came today. Browsing Whole Foods after work scored a delivery window of groceries including bagels, cream cheese, peppermint tea, Echinacea tea, and a restock of paper products which arrived on the doorstep at 8:15 pm. The Whole Foods order has a $10 bonus coupon for Amazon Prime Day which will help cover the hot cocoa and cookies currently in my Amazon cart, so there is a silver lining to the grocery bag. And it’s the brink of a long weekend of three days and minimal plans. Life is annoying and at the same time it’s also sweet.