Yesterday I worked from home because I have one of those stupid summer colds. I still had to get the kids up and out, though, which meant that I had to get somewhat dressed. I usually sleep in pajama bottoms and a tee shirt, so being dressed enough to drop the kids off just meant replacing the pjs with jeans, and not worrying about the oversized, light blue shirt with a bird silhouette stenciled in green on front. My hair was funky, so I grabbed one of the girls’ headbands — a pink, white, and black plaid one. Oh, and flip flops. And, uh, no bra.
The doorbell rang at 7:30, and I figured it was C, Lex and Nate’s friend who sometimes catches a ride to school with us and comes over every afternoon. No. No, it was a man from PG&E (pacific gas/electric), wanting to know if that Honda was mine. Which Honda, I asked, the van in the driveway? No, he said, the Accord at the curb. I told him it wasn’t ours and I didn’t know who it belonged to.
When we left for school, we saw all the big cherry picker trucks gathered on our street. They’re doing something with the streetlights, but I don’t know what.
I ended up getting more done than usual yesterday, working all alone in the big chair in my living room near the open window. It was perfect outside, and I could hear the windchimes and feel the breeze. I think if office buildings had functional windows and let people sit near them the GNP would go up. I’d like it, anyhow.
At the end of the day, the big kids went to their dad’s, John went to a concert, and Willow and I stayed up too late playing Wii Fit. I got it for the kids last week, but this was the first time I’ve had a chance to try it out. I don’t think the yoga balance should be judged so harshly, and I yelled at the trainer BALANCE IS DYNAMIC AND FLUID, DUMBASS! At least my Wii Fit age is under my actual, real-life age. And the board weighed me a little light, too, so that kept my annoyance in check.
After Willow fell asleep, I watched The Big Lebowski on Hulu.com, and then I went to bed.
Where I had a dream that proved to me that my subconcious has been secretly renewing that Tiger Beat subscription for the past 25 years. OK — so I was staying in this bright red hotel with pink curtains somewhere on the East Coast near a big lake. Brad and Angelina were there, too, and she was in labour — you know, with the twins! They needed to get to the hospital, but she couldn’t really sit because she couldn’t bend at the waist, and everyone was wondering how they’d get there. We were all in the little lounge area of the hotel, and I was talking on the phone and holding a bunch of lemons. I put the reciever to my chest to mute it, and I said to Brad, You can borrow my Honda; it’s a van! She’ll totally be able to lie down while you drive. And he looked at me so kindly from the rocking chair where he was sitting, flashed me a smile, and said, Thanks. I put down some lemons and fished the keys from my pocket, tossed them over, and then went back to my phone call.
My genius boss has this rule that we can’t work at home if we are sick. We have laptops and work at home 1 (fixed – mine is Tues) day a week. But if we are sick, we have to EITHER take a sick day (which is the same pool of hours as our vacation) OR come in. So people come in to work if they are ill, spreading germs thru cubeland. Gosh, I love her.
that makes *absolutely* no sense, and i’m a go-with-the-flow person at heart. i usually time my illnesses for the weekend. like, for instance, this weekend.
cough
hack
sneeze