Some works in progress (including me)
Normally, I write at night after work, after the baby has gone to sleep, after I have cleaned the kitchen, which generally takes an hour, I timed it tonight, and once I am lying in bed in my pajamas, which are generally not pajamas at all, but a nightgown whose actual purpose in life was to be a beach coverup, but which I have repurposed into sleepwear. But lately, I have been worried about losing my job, so for the couple of weeks, I have gone back to work at night, so as to get ahead for the next day, and not begin things already feeling behind. That’s probably what I should be doing right now, looking at a deck that I didn’t look at on Friday because we had been working like crazy and that on top of the seemingly endless car search I’ve been on along with working with kids on college essays on the weekends and I just needed a fucking break to go to this farm five minutes away from my daughter’s daycare on Friday afternoon and “work” from there. Which really meant eating vanilla and coffee frozen custard while sitting at a picnic table staring at a bunch of sheep, because it is an actual working farm and they sell wool inside.
And I did intend to look at the deck. I pulled it up on my screen. I tethered my laptop to my phone so that Google Slides would work. And then I noticed that no one else was in the deck, probably because they, too, were exhausted from having to deliver insane amounts of work to this client on a weekly basis for the past couple of months, work for which we were amazingly understaffed and, in my case at least, unqualified to do, but somehow managed to do it anyway. At which point I thought, fuck it, and finished my frozen custard and then went to sprawl out in an Adirondack chair and close my eyes and meditate while the setting sun beat down on my face.
Then, I spent yesterday in a flurry of useless activity.
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