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Jun. 13th, 2020 10:27 amWhere did the week go again? It's not just that I lose track of what day it is, it's that the days disappear. I have a couple of visual metrics for the passage of time: the stack of cat food cans in the cabinet, the need to refill my 2-week pill boxes. There are other indications of the passing summer: the berries are in full swing and I'm just on the edge of thinking about preserving some of them. (Possibly just doing a smashed sauce frozen in ice cube trays.) The tomatoes are still ramping up (none ripe yet) but I have zuchhinis! Big ones! The cucumbers are also starting though not big enough to eat yet. If I'd gotten my act together to plan onions in a timely manner, I might be able to go weeks at a time without even buying produce. (Nowhere near close to self-sufficiency. My abundance season is limited.)
As expected, I didn't get any home projects done during the week. The theory is to do the rug shampooing in the library this weekend. SInce it doesn't involve moving furniture or regular foot traffic, it's ok that we aren't at peak drying temperatures. I'll also start on sorting the SCA detritus in the living room. I've already rescued a couple pairs of medium-weight linen braies to use as lounging pants.
I've been reading/annotating for the LHMP blog every morning before work this week, so there's another piece of evidence that my brain may be coming back. And after including a semi-spontaneous rant about the dearth of f/f historical fiction by/about Black people, I figured I should do more than rant and this month's book appreciation show will be a list around that theme, while the end-of-month essay will be about racial issues in historical sources for female homoeroticism. Inspiration comes where you find it.
Having set up my home office for temperature control, I've found that I only really need to turn the AC on if it goes over 90F. I have an elaborate daily schedule of windows, fans, and whatnot for passive control. Simply moving the office to the guestroom contributes to keeping cool, which is serendipitous. The cats are adding to my work environment by acting as my "you're working after hours again" alarm, since they now get their wet food when I leave the office for the day.
I didn't mark it on the anniversary itself, but I've now been working from home for three months. Since the latest from my employer is that current arrangements are guaranteed through Labor Day, that will make a minimum of 6 months. And we've already been told that my department is likely to be among the last brought back on site. (And when we did a department check-in, pretty much everyone in the group would love to have a hybrid arrangement with only 1-2 days per week on site as a permanent thing, if allowed.) I've gone through stages in what I notice about WFH. At first it was just a matter of getting used to the new rhythms and cues. Then it was the occasional annoyance of systems not designed for WFH. Then I started missing the casual social chit-chat. (We do some of that with an official zoom social hour every two weeks, and I've sponsored a MWF half-hour video drop-in for knowledge sharing.) But coming back after my week off, I also noticed a disconnection -- a sense of no longer being connected to the physicality of what my job accomplishes. It manifested in part in a sense of, "I'm tired of this, it feels pointless," and in part as an impatience with the errors that generate my investigations. ("Why does this keep happening?") Sharing with a number of WFH buddies makes it easier to deal, because we're all going through similar feelings.
Today is going to be a shopping day so I need to make lists for efficiency. I don't feel any particular anxiety about going to stores, but I still want to minimize trips.
As expected, I didn't get any home projects done during the week. The theory is to do the rug shampooing in the library this weekend. SInce it doesn't involve moving furniture or regular foot traffic, it's ok that we aren't at peak drying temperatures. I'll also start on sorting the SCA detritus in the living room. I've already rescued a couple pairs of medium-weight linen braies to use as lounging pants.
I've been reading/annotating for the LHMP blog every morning before work this week, so there's another piece of evidence that my brain may be coming back. And after including a semi-spontaneous rant about the dearth of f/f historical fiction by/about Black people, I figured I should do more than rant and this month's book appreciation show will be a list around that theme, while the end-of-month essay will be about racial issues in historical sources for female homoeroticism. Inspiration comes where you find it.
Having set up my home office for temperature control, I've found that I only really need to turn the AC on if it goes over 90F. I have an elaborate daily schedule of windows, fans, and whatnot for passive control. Simply moving the office to the guestroom contributes to keeping cool, which is serendipitous. The cats are adding to my work environment by acting as my "you're working after hours again" alarm, since they now get their wet food when I leave the office for the day.
I didn't mark it on the anniversary itself, but I've now been working from home for three months. Since the latest from my employer is that current arrangements are guaranteed through Labor Day, that will make a minimum of 6 months. And we've already been told that my department is likely to be among the last brought back on site. (And when we did a department check-in, pretty much everyone in the group would love to have a hybrid arrangement with only 1-2 days per week on site as a permanent thing, if allowed.) I've gone through stages in what I notice about WFH. At first it was just a matter of getting used to the new rhythms and cues. Then it was the occasional annoyance of systems not designed for WFH. Then I started missing the casual social chit-chat. (We do some of that with an official zoom social hour every two weeks, and I've sponsored a MWF half-hour video drop-in for knowledge sharing.) But coming back after my week off, I also noticed a disconnection -- a sense of no longer being connected to the physicality of what my job accomplishes. It manifested in part in a sense of, "I'm tired of this, it feels pointless," and in part as an impatience with the errors that generate my investigations. ("Why does this keep happening?") Sharing with a number of WFH buddies makes it easier to deal, because we're all going through similar feelings.
Today is going to be a shopping day so I need to make lists for efficiency. I don't feel any particular anxiety about going to stores, but I still want to minimize trips.
