2007
Always the X, Never the Y
Not much to say lately. You might say I’m buried under work, and you might also say that I’m in a bit of a funk; both would be accurate. It’s just, sigh, everywhere I look someone else is doing one of those major-life-event things, and several people I watched with jealous eyes do one major-life-event thing a while back are now working on major-life-event thing #2–engagements, weddings, babies, more babies, real estate, you name it. And then there’s me, the perennial girlfriend. I must be really good at it or something. I should probably consider it a compliment rather than a curse, and I should probably try real hard not to take it as a sign of disrespect, but sometimes that’s just the way it looks and, more trenchantly, feels. Anyway, I guess I have plenty to say, but you guys are probably not the ones I should be saying it to.
Comments are closed. I can’t take any “Cheer-up Charlie”s today.
2007
WAHLA*
I like to think that the reason the dishes and laundry stack up and various other chores go unaccomplished is that I’m never home long enough to get those things done. Between an eight-hour workday with a 45-minute commute on each end, by the time I get home at 6:30 or 7, all I want to do is stuff my maw with pre-made salad and watch a movie; the only task I’m up to in the evening is digesting.
If I didn’t need the human contact (and central heating) of an office environment to keep me sane, I imagine that working from home could only be advantageous to my household organization issues. As I imagine it, I would wake up, work for a while, do dishes for a while, work a little more, clean a little more, maybe go for a run and lift some weights on alternating days. Simon would come home to vacuumed rugs and some sort of magical casserole, and I would, of course, be wearing an apron over my poofy pink skirt. Well, maybe not that last part. At least not until summer.
Don’t you find it’s always easy to talk talk talk about what you would do when there’s little chance it’s actually going to happen? Like the way I talk about how much I would donate to charity and not spend on clothes if I won the lottery.
Knowing that I would be working from home today, I devised a plan that would include a little domestic and personal maintenance while also getting through the manuscripts on deadline. I would edit while refining my pores, I would deep condition while compiling an index, my pedicure would cure while I folded socks. Simon would come home to a martini and a steak and a girlfriend wearing at least lipstick if not the full Donna Reed ensemble.
Yeah, well, the best laid plans…
I did not do the dishes, I did not vacuum, I did not pass go, but I did collect a day’s paycheck working like mad from the living room floor while eating clementines and letting different-flavored teabags build up in the bottom of a single mug. (Note: Everything tastes better with peppermint dregs.) When Simon came home I was still in my p.j.s, unshowered, although I did remember to take the steaks out of the freezer to thaw, so there was that at least.
On the one hand, I feel like kind of a loser having spent the whole day on office stuff. Granted, that’s what I was supposed to have done, but I somehow thought I’d be able to cram in forty billion other little tasks too and earn my superwoman Girl Scout badge before the sun went down. Luckily, the pressure comes from within and not from without, and that’s better for everyone. Simon never makes those kinds of demands on me and is a go-with-the-flow type who wouldn’t dream of judging a woman based on the state of her domain. (If he were that type, he certainly wouldn’t be with me.) Or perhaps he’s just smart enough to know that making demands is the best way to make me not do something. Or perhaps we’re two of a kind and he is my soulmate in sloth. What would you think if I told you he just called my cell phone from the next room to let me know he’s through napping?
*WAHLA = Work At Home Lazy-Ass (pronounced “viola”)
2007
Swimsuit Competition
So, um, hi. Shall I liveblog the Miss America Pageant? Because that’s what I’m watching right now. And it’s not over for another two hours. And I have no plans to do anything else tonight besides go to bed immediately after the pageant. I’m serious. I might brush my teeth at some point, but that’s it. I spent all day today proofreading a manuscript that contains much Chinese and much Japanese and a little Korean here and there. My brain is naught but a large lump of day-old sweet and sour pork that is unfit for your consumption.
The good news is that my two options for tomorrow were (1) get dropped off at work two hours earlier than normal or (2) stay at home and work in my p.j.s all day, and guess which one I chose? Guess!
Also awesome is that staying at home in my p.j.s means I get to nurse my current ailment, which is either a tweaked back muscle or acute renal failure. (Guess which?!) Simon had to give me the “take care of your health or I’ll give you something to cry about” speech, and I think in rolling my eyes I sprained those too. It’s such a drag having someone look after and care for me. In fact, tonight he wanted to drag me to some sort of public hot tub facility to soothe my aches, which, aw, nice! but also ew, gross! because I’ve seen what people do in hot tubs on Blind Date and there is NO amount of chlorine. So apparently because I’m both a spermaphobe germaphobe and also an ungrateful wretch, we are not hot-tubbing tonight but instead sitting on the couch, ingesting carbs in great volume, and repeating everything Mario Lopez says in a bratty tone of voice. What’s new with you?
p.s. Remember last time I watched the Miss America Pageant? Two and a half years ago, when I apparently had some deltoid definition? Also, no shame. Alas, I have no evening gowns with me in California, and there’s no way I’m pulling out the bikini having not shaved my legs since 2006. Looks like I’ll have to rack up all my points in the talent portion. Now, where did I put that dictionary…
