I pick up socks, turn to the dresser, put them away, turn back to the basket. Stack of tee shirts, turn to the dresser, put them away, turn back to the basket for the last pair of jeans it still holds:
These kitchen-table chairs UTTERLY BLOW for anything more than about 25 continuous minutes of use.
Seriously, Flex, go the hell away!
Yay whatever music I want to play, at whatever volume.
Remote access is simultaneously
mind-boggling, even if you know at least the basics of the technology involved
Annie: The claws are not required for standing on my leg, ow ow ow ow ow
This neighborhood is almost freakishly quiet on weekdays.
The sofa, it calls to me....
When I couldn’t work from home, in the days when my job didn’t offer it (retail is hard to do except at the store) and before the technology was fully baked (hail the days of Citrix on Decker Lake Lane!), I wanted to work from home all the time.
Now I can work from home pretty much whenever I want and I avoid it. I like keeping my home and my workplace distinct and physically separate, too easy to lose work/life balance otherwise. And no cats at the office, which makes it orders of magnitude more productive. Or at least far less cat-hair–covered.
Is this what it means to gain perspective, or (gasp!) to become an adult?