I’ve been thinking about different types of work. There is Lucrative Work and Wait But That’s Honestly Not Enough for Me to Live Work. There is Feel Good Work and Feel Questionable Work. There is In the Meantime Work and Lifelong Work.
There is Remote Work, too. I’m discovering that this is both good and bad. I think one of the secrets to Remote Work is getting dressed like you’re about to dash off to an office along with everybody else. Emily has got this down. (I do not.)
On the bright side, I have totally gotten the hang of lunch. Remote Work Lunch is fabulous. I can cook! I can make something that will never see the inside of a Tupperware dish. A Tupperware dish that will simply never be crystal clean, ever again. (If you have a dishwasher, take a minute and rejoice, please. For the rest of us.) Teach me how to un-stain my Tupperware, and I’ll schlep an omelet over to you, wherever you are. I hope you like Surryano, Gruyere, and spinach?
Of course, the spoils from a quick trip to the bulk bins around the corner can also make for a perfectly acceptable Remote Work Lunch. (It just might be the best $2 you spend all week, actually. But, for future reference, you should probably wear shoes to the store. Shoes, not slippers. I say this as your friend.)
I feel like we’re going to need to talk about the bulk bins for a second. You know where I’m going with this. That hand there, the one attached to your body, is it stealing or sampling? This is the sort of question we’re going to need to ask before we get married. (I don’t know what’s going to happen to the people that steal from the bulk bins, but I’m convinced it’s something. Something Bad.)
While we’re on this tangent, we’re going to need to talk about chia seeds. Do we really like them? Also, the word superfood. This is a yes or a no type of situation. (Please say no.)
And — yikes, really spring boarding off of this tangent — how do we feel about blood oranges? As in, on a scale of 1 to 10, how upsetting is it to read navel orange and do all that peeling and pith removing, only to find that you’ve been duped?
And we’re going to need to talk about the word honey. We’re going to need to agree on whether or not it should be reserved for that sticky-sweet substance from a bear-shaped bottle. Or if it would be okay, after X number of months, to use that word with a capital H. In a semi-public place.
And what about garlic? Where do we stand on it? I’m just going to throw this out there: I’m a little hardheaded about this one. Meaning unless your kisses taste as good as a garlic knot, I might want a second serving more than I want to make out later. It probably won’t come to that though — garlic knots are one of those foods I try not to eat. They were his. I miss them, so much. More every day, it seems, rather than less.
It also seems that Remote Work isn’t distracting me enough. Hmm.
I’m having a hard time with the lack of boundaries (it’s been 9 hours and now it’s time to play on Pinterest and NOT ANSWER ANY OF THOSE EMAILS). And I’m struggling with the lack of human interaction, too. My last interaction was with a spider the size of a star fruit. You can run but you can’t hide! Actually — oh no — you can hide. Please don’t do that — I will be jumpy for days. Let’s just make this quick. I’m so sorry. There just isn’t enough room for both of us in here.
The size of my studio is killing me. And all of a sudden, when I do go out into the world, I find myself irrationally irritated with New York. NYC, where we must cross the street in 25 seconds or less. Only to wait 25 minutes to get INTO the grocery store.
Maybe New York isn’t the answer. Maybe we’re back to that.