Maybe, as a treat, I will work from the floor of the bedroom tomorrow.
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Railroad apartments in Brooklyn were not meant for two working adults to occupy 24/7. I’m not sure if a lot of things anymore, but this, this I am sure of.
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“Oh this? This is just my duvet fort.” — me, tomorrow, on the editors handoff meeting.
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Today, 30 seconds before a scheduled meeting, I got up off the couch to move into the kitchen for better lighting, but in doing so I accidentally unplugged the modem. I had 29 seconds to fix it, and folks, a lifetime of macguyver reruns did NOT prepare me.
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Anyway I joke about it but I’m genuinely jealous of people with tables right now. The other day I spent 15 minutes trying to remember the last time I sat on something that was hard and had a back. I still can’t recall.
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Anyway it is now <checks watch> four hours after the great internet-meltdown-before-a-meeting moment of my own making, and my brain has finally chilled the fuck out. Ordinarily I’d have gone for a run to help but can’t do that without a whole other round of anxiety now either.
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I am DEFINITELY building a blanket fort from which to do my work tomorrow.
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End of conversation
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