So here we are, early December. And on the inside, I'm beginning to feel like Homer here.
First the stats: I've been to the office twice since the end of March.
First time was to get a borked Mobikey fixed by the IT folks. I saw enough at the town facilities to make me glad I'm working at home. Not so many people there, but all wearing masks, getting temperatures taken at the door.
Second time was for an evaluated drill, which was done in pieces to make sure we didn't go over any crowd limits for covid safety. There was me and I think three other people in the room. Which was fine, since it meant it didn't go on forever, but it added to the artificiality of the whole thing.
I was worried there for a while that we wouldn't have enough work to fill the hours, but that has certainly not been a problem. Just this last week (which was exceptional, I admit) I finished 21 documents. And new work just comes trickling and sometimes pouring in. So no real changes there, to be sure.
I am getting a little tired of the ol' four walls. The furthest afield we've been this year was to go to Island Park for a few days' vacation. We have done some campouts with the Scouts, which has been helpful. But I'm ready for something a bit more involved.
Stress has really built up around here. With all of us home, we're tripping over each other. Nobody really wants to do things like dishes and dinner and such, which makes it frustrating. We ask for help, and it comes in spurts. Everyone seems to have an excuse why they can't help. So I try to show that I'm not accepting my own excuses by getting to work. Worky worky work. Which reminds me -- No one is working on dinner at the moment. Better go fix that.
But a few more things: I did finally get the drawer fixed in the kitchen. And fixed the chair in the kitchen. Just in time for one of the cupboard doors to fall off and for one of the chairs in the basement to snap.
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