Dealer's Choice

On Tuesday I was raised by my alarm from a dream in which I was going to lose my job, or might have been going to lose my job, or was going to get reshuffled, or whatever, and the key point, other than man, what is it about getting woken up from a dream? I was groggy the whole darn day - was: I wasn't too upset. Yes, it was a dream, and also my eraser turned into a miniature kit fox and ran into the corner, but the prospect of losing my job, even on waking, was not terribly distressing. I had a momentary flash of panic about the mortgage and other expenses (as well I should), but my main reaction was, "Hmmm. I could do a lot with all that extra time."

Which is perhaps why two days later, after a work day that made me wonder to which cost code I should charge 30 minutes of seething and 45 minutes of wasting my damn time, I thought, hmmm. I could just not have to deal with any of this.

I could just be at home, and do home stuff, and be homey and homely and home. And then I had a little frisson of delight and relief - all of the irritating insoluble problems of the workplace could just vanish, just like that, and I would be free.

It sounded wonderful. For about five minutes. Then I remembered that:

a. I really do like my paycheck very much, and

b. I also am kind of involved in things at work right now, and walking out would leave me with an eternal sense of having left something unfinished, plus

c. Irritation is good for me.

It took me a while to realize this. Irritation - not crushing stress or daily misery, but the kind of condition where you have to sigh sharply and bustle in and do things right - is good for people. So is training yourself to suck it up and just deal with the fact that the air conditioning comes on when it's 46 degrees outside (WTH, Building People?), that the computer upgrades you need to do your job aren't likely to come before October even though other people in the office just got brand new iPads, and that meetings will always be dominated by the ones who do nothing but complain. It's like exercise: it's uncomfortable during the practice of it, but afterward you feel great, plus your muscles are better toned.

So: instead of getting all bent out of shape when I get yet another incomprehensible request to deal with something that I'm pretty sure we solved three months ago, I just breathe, smile, and think feel the burn. And also: nope. Not leaving. Not today.

I do not like it, Sam I Am

I do not LIKE April Fool's Day with ham. Or any other meat, or bread, or...

Aaaand that was really just a way to get the obligatory April Fool's Day nonsense out of the way. I suppose it is self-evident that as someone who thrives on routine and predictability, I would hate April Fool's Day pranks like the plague, but I still don't like being reminded that I am a dour and literal sourpuss.

Moving on. I will try not to think about how my poor mom is stuck alone at home with the kids on this potential-for-giddy-excess day (the kids' school district has managed to schedule Spring Break so that it covers April Fool's Day every year since we've been here. Coincidence? I think not...)

I'm beginning to settle into the new workspace, or more specifically, into the joy of being a shortish drive from work. Yesterday I rode my bike in, and although it was not the glorious exercise in joy that riding my bike to the old workspace was, the upside was that I wasn't toast by the end of the day. Six miles is pretty manageable. Yes, fine, I felt a bit like Ralph Nader as I rode my ancient, dusty bike through the Land O the Office Parks and Warehouses with my work pants tucked into my socks. But it felt like it could become a regular, if infrequent, part of my life. Once again I can be a bike commuter, with all the sweaty virtue that implies.

We're beginning to settle into the house space, too. It has been a blessed relief to give up on our irritating and needy contractor and just hire people who show up when promised, work hard, and finish the job with a minimum of fuss and drama (who knew? now we're wondering why the hell we stayed with the other guy for so long. Pity really isn't a viable business model, or shouldn't be). The trim, for example, was finished in a day. There are still unfinished spots, but we've brought out the furniture and arranged it as though things were done, and psychologically that makes a ton of difference. Plus: spring is nigh.

We finished up our ski season last weekend. Thank god. I'm all for skiing, which is good, considering how much time and resources we direct to the industry, but man, it's nice to have weekends back without the guilt of feeling like we should be spending them driving into the mountains to do something that involves so much lugging of heavy, finger-pinching equipment, with the added bonus of the day possibly ending in death/ serious injury. On the last two runs of the day, Helen finally talked herself into letting go of my hand while she skiied the bunny slope (note: I bribed her), and skiied down the hill faster than I could keep up. That's my girl, I thought, grinning madly as I chased the little pink snowpants down to the lift.

So: that was March. M took the kids to the creek at the bottom of the hill (nature exposure: check), we watched the moon rise as a family (we drove to Cherry Creek Park on the night of the full moon, and it was touching and heartening to see what a popular activity this was, with cars and pedestrians lined up all along the roads on the west edge of the park) (moon rise: check), I went for a hike in the Greenland Open Space on my day off (hike for me: check), and I struggled mightily through one of the books on my bedside TBR pile (I'm going to have to give this one a fail. It's been two months now, and I'm still on the second chapter of book 2).

Update: Project Return Home a success

Okay, YES, I did make it home on Thursday. However, my escapade apparently left me too tired to post. I'm attempting to rectify that situation currently--the posting, not the tiredness. So, uh, here's my post. In list form, because still with the tiredness.

1. Si's last day of of school was today. Technically I should say "day," since classes dismiss at 10:30 a.m. following a school-wide party (which I'm not faulting them for, because it's hardly like there's going to be meaningful instruction on the last day). Let's have a round of applause for my husband's job, which allows him to work from home in a flex-time situation completely at his own discretion. If we had to do this on two minimally flexy jobs we'd be screwed.

2. Let the party of summer begin. *groan and fall to floor* Last summer was one single three-month fight between me and Si on the subject of how much daily monitor time was appropriate. This year we're doing camps and playdates, so hopefully it will be less of an issue. Also, he's like...more mature, or something, and is actually starting to understand (slash parrot back in a convincing tone of voice) our position re the video gaming.

3. On the party deck tonight...cold lentil salad and Shrek 4.

4. I'm still kind of looking forward to summer. I wish I could participate in it more, though: summer is the time when I really wish I didn't work.

5. We're in the middle of signing papers in which we agree to have the interior of the house gutted, though, so not working/ working less is off the table as an option. I'm actually excited about the remodel, though--in addition to a fancy new kitchen where the drawers don't shake sawdust and paint chips down into our dishes, we're going to have actual insulation in the roof! As opposed the 3-inch soggy fiberglass batts we had before. Already we have some excellent improvements: the house no longer smells like mold, we don't have ants, the rotting soffits and fascia boards have been replaced, AND, since it was cheap and easy (relatively speaking), we had two skylights put in.

So! Have a good Tuesday evening. I'll be thinking of you as I eat popcorn-laced butter product in the air-conditioned dark.

Lunch hour

People: I went for a hike on my lunch hour yesterday. I KNOW! I couldn't believe it myself. It was just so beautiful driving in, and I am beginning to get a little tired of walking the neighborhood streets, so I looked up the nearest trail on MapMyRun when I got to my desk. The nearest trail is six minutes away, you guys. (By car. Vroom vroom). And it's a real trail, not a bike path in somebody's back yard. It's behind the hogback, so it doesn't require the suspension of audial disbelief that a lot of Denver area trails need ("I am in naturrre. It is so peacefulll. Just ignore the sound of that busy highway a tenth of a mile away.") The views are spectacular. I saw bear poop (which, PSA to any bears that are reading: please avoid the plums. Your system just can't handle them.) It was absolutely fantastic (and, okay, it didn't take the thirty minutes that I had optimistically allotted it, but still: I was back at my desk within an hour). Plus: it was something I could not have done while working at home. Time, gas cost, fretting: I just wouldn't have done it.

So. There. Reason fifty-three I am glad to be working here.

Happy, happy house....wife

This afternoon, straightening up at home before going to pick up my son from school, I caught a glance of myself in the bathroom mirror. I was still dressed in my "work" duds, my red corduroy pants and braided belt and patterned paisley shirt (FANCY, I know. You should see me on NON-work days. I'm a snappy dresser.) A little pang went through me--work!--and then I relaxed: done for the day. Whew. Nothing but domestic tasks ahead of me: comfortable, easy stuff.

Yes, I know. I'm still new; work is necessarily uncomfortable, full of long well-meaning silences at the lunch table as I desperately try to make conversation with someone I don't know. Everyone is trying to be friendly, which is nice, but I don't know the lingo or the in-jokes. This is normal, this feeling of not-fitting-in and inadequacy.

BUT. Moments of relief like I felt earlier today, realizing I was DONE, make me wonder about my general fitness for work. Days like today I feel like I'm best suited for the quiet life of home, of cooking meals and overseeing homework and doing laundry and reading: a place where I don't have to project or posture, I can just be me (and slightly withdrawn).

And then I'm totally appalled, and tell myself to get a frigging grip, already.

And THEN I pick up kid one and he yells, "Why didn't you bring the car? I wanted you to pick me up in the CAR! [tears]"

And then work, and projecting, and posturing, don't look half bad. GAWD.