Last night didn't have much to offer in the way of sleep, and, as sometimes happens with nights like that, it led to the fairly strange-feeling morning I am having. It's wreaking havoc on the poor dog's nerves, but at least I'm *here* to be all reassuring and some junk.
Richmond is sandwiched between the two major storms hitting the east coast right now, and as such we are having not-such-great weather, but not to terribly awful either. The weathermen have been pretty excitedly yipping about this for literally a week now, and so I had plenty of notice. Last night, I brought my work laptop home, and have duly logged on to do my job.
I am not blogging from my work computer, no. But I am blogging, yes. For I am evil, profligate, and slackerly-selfish. (I feel my self-respect as a member of Generation X swelling even as I say so.)
The thing is, I was actually up and working well in advance of my usual reporting time. And my usual reporting time is 7:30 mainly in service of my function as security escort. I come in before the 8:00 races so as to be available for Julie McCoy Your Cruise Director duties - and, given that the building isn't crawling with visitors, I don't expect much demand for that this morning.
So I was up and working by seven a.m., and why the heck would I be doing that, one might ask.
I did that because, in the blear and hate of oh-dark-thirty, and having been up all night, I FINALLY drowsed for a moment - I finally almost fell asleep - and my body realized it couldn't allow that. And so I woke. All sure that I was late.
I got up, I clambered down the stairs, I refused to notice how dark it still was (it's ALWAYS dark when I get up!), and I was 2/3 the way through my various inbox audits before I realized the clock on my laptop had interesting information for me. Seven oh seven??
Good lord, even for me that's a bit eeeeeaarlly.
I indulged the luxury of going upstairs to scrape my hair off my face, to wash it, to clean my teeth, to get some shoes on. This office floor is icy cold tile. It was luxury, to clothe my poor feet.
So I am blogging (but I won't be all day) because it is that eerie kind of time where there's snow outside and it's wildly dreary, but I am home ... but I'm not "off" either.
And because, of course, if I had anything to SAY I'd hardly be a self-respecting blogger. Or Gen X'er, for that matter.
So blather, blather.
Maybe it's time for a bowl of cream of wheat and something to sip on.
***
Side note: it's so weird being able to scritch my Lolly in between work stuff. I always did want to bring her with me.
2 comments:
I wish working remotely was possible. Sigh
It's been a surprising element of the new gig for me. I can't say I have complaints about being able to do it the two days I have - and certainly not losing vacation time to snow day is preferable. Yet I don't think I'd do well with two days every WEEK worked from home. For my kind of job, it's not the most efficient position, and for my specific circumstances, there are two minor discomforts which would become annoying to me - my laptop screen is stupidly dim (I know there must be a brightness adjustment, but I haven't been able to figure it out on the POC equipment we have), and my workspace here is just not comfortable. As I made so clear during unemployment, I seem to do best with the discipline of getting dressed and going in to an office, being amongst people.
Obviously, I can't in earnest COMPLAIN in any way at all about my job! But I am fairly glad it's not always done from my own house.
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