“Remoted” – Workday 46/ Day 59 (Thursday)

At the start of the Stay at Home times, it occurred to me that some puzzles would be nice. While living with Mom for three years after moving back from Tennessee, we often had a puzzle in progress on the massive dining room table. Mom the puzzle maker even had a puzzle board, so the whole thing could be lifted and relocated if we needed the table for something else.

Knowing how Mom likes puzzles, I thought about getting her some for Mother’s Day. She’s been cooped up in the house since mid-January when she had knee surgery. Poor thing, just as she was recovered from the knee surgery and was able to start driving and felt like going out again, the COVID-19 restrictions descended upon the land. This is typical of the kind of luck we have in my family. Anyway, it seemed like some fresh puzzles would be a good gift. Unfortunately, this idea hatched too late. Puzzles were either sold out or wouldn’t arrive in time for Mother’s Day and she got home cooked food from me instead.

After the Mother’s Day puzzle failure, there were still puzzles on my brain, but now for myself. It seemed like every day, people were displaying completed puzzles on Facebook and there may have been a few teensy pangs of jealousy. But dang, some of the puzzles I had found were crazy pricey – like $40! For bits of cardboard in a box. Those were not the puzzles I sought. My puzzles do not cost a minor fortune.

Puzzles!

Last week, Zulily had a collection of puzzles, with four puzzles costing about as much as one or two on the other sites that actually had any. The images aren’t the best ones (cool mandalas and scenics were already sold out) but for the price, I’ll be fine with Sherlock Holmes, chickens, puppies, and quilt blocks. With posters. Oh, is that why puzzles are so pricey? The fine art poster?

When the Friday vacation day was scheduled, it was partly because I just really wanted a day off, and also with the hope that the puzzles would arrive in time for a three-day puzzle marathon. On Monday, there was a UPS notification that they’d be arriving Thursday (today!) “by 9:00 PM.” 

This was good to know as it provided time to brush on the rules. You know -- like, you can’t look at the picture on the box. Where is the challenge in that? Cripes, any monkey can assemble a puzzle following the picture on the box. Then there is the one about building the outer edge first, which is just logical. And there is the rule that if you take a puzzle piece out of the box, you cannot put it back into the box – it goes on the table. I think those are all of them.

I thought the rules were actual rules that everyone knew about, so imagine my surprise as an adult to have it brought to my attention that this is not the case. Apparently, these were just Mom’s and my rules. My sister declared the rules stupid and my nieces laughed at them. It turns out, most people have no rules about puzzles. Apparently, a lot of people lack puzzle discipline.

The package tracking for UPS chronicled the journey of my puzzles departing Easton, Pennsylvania on Monday to nearby Chelmsford this morning. There is even a feature where you can see the truck on a map once it’s nearby. At lunchtime, the truck was within a mile or two of the house, and I figured I’d be busting open a puzzle and a beer at 5:00. But at 5:30, there were no puzzles on the doorstep. According to the map, the truck was in the exact same spot three streets away as it was a couple hours earlier. Seriously? That’s just a big tease and not a lot of progress.

They finally arrived at 7:30. By then, I was already sidetracked with a typical act of dietary self-sabotage. It may have been a healthy salad for lunch, but it was all about being elbow deep in a big bag of potato chips with a side of coconut chocolate macaroons after supper while watching season three of “The Handmaid’s Tale” on the Xfinity “Watchathon Week” which includes premium channels and Hulu.

The puzzles will have to wait until morning. It will be easier with natural lighting and coffee. Or something.

“Remoted” – Workday 45 / Day 58 (Wednesday)

Today we had our monthly meeting of the Sales and Marketing team which is comprised of Sales, Marketing, Customer Experience, and Corporate Communications. In the old normal times, we would gather in the Marketing area which has plenty of room and seating for all 15 to 20 of us, with group size varying based on the number of co-ops and interns in the office and other people out of the office. Today, in the new work from home time, we were 16 on a Zoom screen. It was great to see everyone, and only slightly embarrassing when both dogs started going nuts barking because the long-awaited Amazon hand soap delivery arrived during the meeting.

For part of the meeting, we were asked to share something we are grateful for, and something new we’ve enjoyed doing during the remote times. Well, I’m certainly grateful to have a job, and I reflect on that pretty much every day and especially on payday.

Give me an apron and a helmet and
I can take care of myself.

As for the new and enjoyable thing, my lame-ass response was that I enjoy having groceries delivered. It’s true (and pathetic) that it is the only “new” thing in my world, and compared to colleagues who are rediscovering family dinners, a slower pace of life, or that they enjoy cooking, it’s pretty freeking lame. But I live alone, I’m mostly self-sufficient (the grocery deliveries took it down a few points), and for my life to get any slower would involve rigor mortis. 

The differences in my life right now are so subtle they are imperceptible. There is an extra 30 minutes before and after work. I still work all day, cook and eat, play online Scrabble, watch too much Netflix and Prime Video, and sleep. Just like before. The extra hour a day from not commuting is spent writing.

A very experienced party of one.

The network of exciting and interesting new friends I imagined would blossom upon moving to Lowell never happened, because damn, it gets harder with age and/or I’m just a lone wolf/odd duck. I haven’t had a boyfriend in so long (years. So many years) that I don’t remember what that is like, but even when there was one, there was no boyfriend social network, it was just me and the guy.

Except for the occasional community event and a monthly board meeting, the bulk of my social life (and I use the term loosely) since moving back from Tennessee and especially to Lowell has consisted of empty interactions with a Family Dollar cashier once or twice a week while buying dog biscuits or toilet paper or Milk Duds, and with a grocery store cashier once every three to six weeks. There were highly valued, periodic meetups with family and a handful of decades-long close friends who all live out of town. But for the most part, there was no bright and shiny social life suddenly snatched from my grasp by a Stay-at-Home mandate and replaced with quiet time for new and wondrous discoveries.

While everyone around me was cultivating relationships and families and having  a social scene, I unwittingly set myself up to be an expert level social distancer long before it was needed. Read: I’m damn good at being isolated. So, so good. Even when it wasn’t necessary.

Now, if the past 58 days had involved not working and just being home all day free of obligations, my answer about new and enjoyable things would be different. I’m sure I would have learned a new language or unpacked all the supplies and resumed making stained glass or sewing. Maybe there would be a lot of reading and finally hanging some of the gajillion pieces of art that live in boxes and drawers. But for now, life is the same. I was lazy and anti-social before COVID-19 reached our shores, and the only difference now is, all the accidental practice paid off and I didn’t have to change a thing.

“Remoted” – Workday 44 / Day 57 (Tuesday)

Work blah, blah, blah, Zoom meeting, blah, work, blah, blah, after-work Zoom meeting. Except for not being downtown in an office, the work part of the day felt pretty normal.

The dogs, however, were exceptionally abnormal extra pains in the neck. Just a couple days ago they were pictures of tranquility, nestled in their respective beds and snoring the day away and I was afraid it was too good to last. Sure enough, today, they were whiny, barky, and fussy all day. I swear I let them out at least 12,437 times. They would bark and whine to go out. Once out, they would bark to come back in. But not together, oh hell no, that would have been too easy. One would want to go out, then the other. Or, if two dogs went out, one would immediately start barking to come back in. The other one would look at me and walk away. I’d get back inside the house and sit down at the desk, and the one outside would start barking to come in.

The whole process is aggravated by an unfortunate house layout. There is no access from the house directly into the back yard. The nook off the kitchen that is now the office was some sort of porch so it’s possible there was direct access to the back yard at some point “ago.” But now, it’s a delightful little jaunt down three steps from the side porch, a hairpin turn, and then eight to ten steps to the gate (depending upon footwear, ground conditions, energy level, etc.). Moose doesn’t like to hang around outside and usually comes back in immediately after doing his business, but if I don’t close the gate behind Winston, he likes to take random walkabouts, visiting neighboring yards and at least twice has disappeared to parts unknown for extended times.

This feels suspicious.
They never sit this close to each other.

When they weren’t doing the outdoor shenanigans, “The Boys” were weird inside, too. They have never deliberately cuddled together and usually it’s a dental display with sound effects if one gets too close to the other. Today, they were nestled butt to butt in the same bed, right next to the office chair. They hung pretty close to each other most of the day, which felt like there was some sort of conspiracy in the works. Or it’s an omen. 

Elevated fire risk, then
a freeze. Sure, whatever.

It’s still not warm yet, so today I put on a down jacket. In the house. This was on top of a skiing base layer and a fleece funnel neck pullover. One would think the rage from serving the canine overlords all day or the steady stream of hot tea  would have delivered a warming effect, but that was not the case.

Late in the day, I saw the weather app had delivered two alerts. One was for an elevated fire risk until 7 p.m. due to very dry conditions and gusty winds, and the other is for 2 a.m., when, after the potential risk of burning, hell will apparently freeze over. 

Perhaps this what is foretold by the odd behavior of two dogs. 

“Remoted” – Workday 43 / Day 56 (Monday)

Another Monday. I did not wake up and bound out of bed full of excitement for a new day. Instead, I dragged myself from the bed inspired only by Moose’s shrill and nagging bark and the knowledge that he slept through the night and my delay could mean an indoor pee puddle/splash pad. At least Moose felt better today and ate his food and as a bonus, it stayed in his stomach where it belongs.

Calendar says "May" but
it's still winter soup weather.

It’s nearly mid-May and the winter fleece pajamas are still in heavy rotation along with fleece pullovers for daywear, the winter comforter is still on the bed, and the heat is still on, so I’m feeling a bit bitchy. Yes, the weather will be what it is whether I approve of it or not, but c’mon. At least my elevated aggravation helps keep me warm-ish. Being winter-spring or tenth winter or whatever we are “enjoying” now, it was a good day for hot soup. Thank goodness all the soup didn’t fit into the container brought to Mom’s yesterday and there was some left. 

The workday featured multiple cups of hot peach tea and stuff like webinars, revising plans, and reviewing and revising media lists. It was a full day in my “regular” Marketing role and it hung in the balance somewhere between less stressful than the special project and dull. There is a bright, shining beacon to the week in the form of Friday, which is booked off as a vacation day. Right now the only plan is to not visit the home-office. This is easy to accomplish now that the workspace isn’t in the dining room, which functions like one of those major airport connecting hubs.

This stupid box!! 

In the ongoing war with technology, the new laptop that arrived April 29 has been less than impressive. There is a quirk where 95% of the time when using the mouse touch pad, a stupid menu box pops up on the screen. I don’t even know how to find that stupid box on purpose with any other computer. The webcam and screen resolution are not great. Every time I pick the thing up my hands get a bunch of tiny static shocks. Every single time. This makes putting it safely on its dedicated bookcase shelf each night a bit more exciting. Is it all the fleece wearing and lingering winter dryness, or is Lenovo testing to see what level of shock is needed to kill? Maybe it knows that I compared it unfavorably to the laptop with the cracked screen and is just enacting jealous revenge. I didn’t even say it out loud, because there is nobody here to tell, but technology keeps getting smarter. Heck, Google knows what I’m thinking before I can finish typing a question into the search bar. 

The cell phone, also a Lenovo product, started acting up just before Remoted Day 1 and has recently gotten worse with suddenly drained battery power and turning itself off, especially after each use of the camera. Yesterday, when calling Mom, the call dropped immediately after it was answered— three times – twice on her landline and again her cell. Texting worked, so I could at least tell her why I was calling, but we couldn’t figure out if the problem was at her end or mine. There was a successfully completed call when I tried it again after parking in front of her house to tell her I was there.

So there we have it. To recap: Monday blahs + chilly weather + ongoing tech war = me bitchy. At least today we know why.

“Remoted” – Day 55 Mother's Day (Sunday)

Mom and me, way back when.

Mother’s Day without shopping or lunch or even being in the same room as my Mom was different, but we made it work. Mom was never a fan of the Mother’s Day restaurant scene, and she doesn’t really care for “stuff,” especially after clearing 40 years’ accumulated stuff from the family home to sell and downsize almost four years ago. Normally, Mom and I do something like a weekday lunch and visit antique shops around Mother’s Day, but that wasn’t going to work this year. 

Thursday’s test drive, in addition to making sure the car would start in general, was to make sure it would run specifically for a drive to Mom’s today. Saturday’s kitchen adventure was chicken, potato, and vegetable soup, and broccoli cheddar omelette muffin cups to bring to Mom’s.

When I first moved back from Tennessee and lived with Mom, I would commandeer the kitchen to make soup for us. Not too long ago, she remarked how she missed having another cook in the house. That’s what got me thinking about cooking something to bring over to Mom for Mother’s Day.

After the usual morning coffee and shower, and the unusual cleaning up the bedroom carpeting from Moose being sick (because it’s always on rugs and never on an easier to clean smooth floor) it was time to pack up the cooking, pack up the dogs and hit the road westward.

Moosie was feeling poorly.

Poor Moose was weird and not himself all morning. First he was barfy, then, the dog whose sole purpose for the past ten years has been eating, ignored his breakfast. He lacked his usual energy and spent time laying around the house. There was debate over whether it was better to leave him at home for two to three hours or to take him for the ride to keep an eye on him, while hoping he didn’t get sick in the car. In the end, both dog beds were loaded into the car, both pooches went for the ride, and nobody got sick.

It was a brief, socially distant Mother’s Day. I set the pink paisley bag containing homemade soup, mini omelette muffin cups, and a box of Ritz crackers on the porch and stepped back into the driveway. Mom came to the doorway and we had a brief conversation over the asphalt divide before I headed back to the car, the dogs, and trip back home. It will be nice to meet with Mom at a normal distance and be able to give her a hug, but that’s on the other side of the pandemic. Until then, it’s safety first, distancing, and phone calls.

“Remoted” – Day 54 (Saturday)

This day has been a mix of relaxing and depressing. It was relaxing having time to cook and kick back and watch shows on Prime. The morning included the usual coffee and semi-usual soup making. The snow didn’t accumulate, but it blew around in the air for a good chunk of the morning. Cold and blowy is the perfect excuse for yard work to not happen. Even when it got sunny in the afternoon, it was still cold.

The depressing part was how fast the day went by. One minute it was 8am, in what felt like barely two minutes later it was 11:30, and in another blink it was 3:30pm, then 7:30. Why do most work days not blow by like this?

Today’s feature presentations kicked off at coffee time with season three of “Secret Diary of a Call Girl” on Prime, starring Billie Piper, who played companion Rose Tyler in many seasons of Doctor Who. There is even an episode of “Call Girl” with Matt Smith, the Eleventh Doctor, as a store clerk. The series is based on a true story and is quite an education in London escort life.

Winston, BungaLowell's
Head of Security.

There was late morning excitement in the yard when Winston went out to do his business. As BungaLowell’s Head of Security, he routinely checks the yard perimeter, sniffing and peeing. Sometimes there is a canine conversational exchange with Harley next door or the two dogs in the yard behind ours. When he wants to come inside, he stands at the gate and barks, and in perfect Pavlovian fashion, I trot outside to open the gate and let him in as quickly as possible to minimize the human neighbor annoyance factor. Today he was barking more and different than usual and when I went outside, he raced to the back of the yard behind the shed like he was chasing something. He’s already met up with a skunk, and the other night, chased Chuck, the resident ground hog/woodchuck/whatever it is under the deck on the other side of the house.

Today, behind the shed, Winston was being glared at menacingly by a large and fluffy black cat atop the fence. The cat looked at me with scary eyes that seemed to glow with the fires of hell, then opened its mouth and let forth a hiss that displayed a vividly red pointy tongue. I had an image of that thing flinging itself at me and tearing my throat open. No kidding, it was acting like something straight out of a horror movie. I yelled to Winston to come inside and we both ran from the fence sitting demon-cat. Winston got a “good boy” cookie and commendation for his bravery with the hell-cat once we were back inside. 

After the hell-cat encounter, the day seemed a bit dull. There were dishes to wash from the morning cooking escapades, online Scrabble games, and more shows to see. Supper was leftover quiche pulled from the freezer, with a salad and white wine, because it’s Saturday night fancy here at the BungaLowell. 

Saturday night dinner. 

The early evening feature was “The Man Who Fell to Earth” on Prime. How on Earth did I not see this when it first came out, or in any of the many decades since?  Oh, David Bowie. Sigh. Then, it might be the Korean movie “Parasite,” which was recommended to me months ago. Or maybe the book I started last weekend and haven't touched since. Who knows. If the times passes like it has all day, it'll be midnight in about two seconds and too late for anything.

“Remoted” -- Workday 42 / Day 53 (Friday)

A week ago, Mom called to ask if I had left the house yet. Of course I hadn’t. It was still deep in my scientific exploration to see how long I could stay in the house before claustrophobia set in or losing my mind and there was no plan to break the streak without a good reason. So-called “good reasons” would be things like needing to take a dog to the vet in the case of an emergency or finally returning to work at the office-office.

When Mom called, she relayed to me the true life tale of a family friend who had not started her car in several weeks, and then when she finally needed to go somewhere, it wouldn’t start because the battery was dead. This caused only a mild level of concern, as the AAA membership was recently renewed. Although, as a very wise friend pointed out, when I finally decide to leave for some good reason, the last thing I’ll want to deal with is waiting for AAA to arrive to deliver a jump start.

During the week after Mom called I saw an article about rats taking up residence in the engines of long-parked cars and chewing the wires, which somehow resemble roots they love to gnaw on. The article suggested checking under the hood before starting a car that hadn’t been run in several weeks. Great. Another car thing to worry about. And what should be done upon finding a family of engine rats? I don’t recall seeing that little tidbit in the article. This is exactly the sort of crap that can keep me awake all night, then deliver nightmares when I finally sleep.

Anyway, a couple days after Mom’s call, while still diligently logging the days spent at the house, the car hadn’t yet been started or checked for engine rats. My neighbor was in the shared driveway between our houses and told me she hadn’t used her car for a while and when she finally did there was a problem with the brakes. So now, after weeks of not driving, there was the possibility of a dead battery, engine rats, and brake trouble? Damn. But the 52 days to a gallon and zero dollars spent on gas was still feeling pretty good.

On Thursday, after work and supper, it finally happened. After being home since March 16, on the evening of Day 52, I left the house. Not for health, welfare, or entertainment purposes. Of all the possible valid reasons to leave, on this night, it was decided to drive the car to check the brakes. That’s when panic set in about not having a proper mask on Day two of the new mask in public mandate. 

What if something happened while I was driving and I had to get out of the car and couldn’t maintain distance and don’t have a mask? This leaving the house business, so adeptly avoided for so long, was becoming more stressful with each passing minute. Dead battery. Engine rats. Brake trouble. No mask. Cripes.

There was some frantic rummaging in a drawer to dredge up a bandanna, then the dogs were herded outside and deposited into the back seat of the car. The engine started right away, just like always. I forgot to check, but the fact the car started and there were no tiny rat screams seemed to rule out engine rats. Rolling out of the driveway, the brakes groaned with an awful and embarrassing noise. 

Dogs about to go for a ride.

The dogs and I drove the quiet streets of our neighborhood for twelve minutes. Traffic was light. Yards were flowering, trees had buds, and spring had arrived while I was in the house. The few people walking on the sidewalks were wearing masks and going about their business like there was nothing unusual going on in the world. 

While the car was moving it was fine and normal, but every time the brakes were used, there was a weird thumpy sound. None of the masked people on the sidewalks turned in horror at the sounds of my brakes, so maybe it doesn’t sound as bad outside the car as it does inside. But I’ll be checking in with the family mechanic about it soon.