Let me clarify: I am used to working at home ALONE.
My husband is technically an essential worker because his company does top secret work for the government. I stopped asking what he does because there are polygraphs involved and we need our health insurance. Andy’s supposed to be going into work. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, company employees kept testing positive for COVID-19, which meant the company closed down and sanitized every infected employees’ building(s). During this process, the company sent all the employees that normally work in the infected building to other buildings. Not surprisingly, employees in THOSE buildings then became infected and those buildings had to be shut down.
It was an endless, ludicrous game of Whack-a-mole until all the buildings wound up shut. The company had no choice but to attempt remote work. Continue reading Hells Bells (#285)
Bet your friends would like this (unless they're racists):
Like a lot of Chinese-Americans, my husband isn’t into fanfare. He doesn’t make a big deal out of the delicious meals he cooks. He presents me with seedlings for my garden that I had no idea were germinating in his greenhouse.
I only found out about a huge bonus he got from work when I found it on our checking account.
When I moved to California, I discovered See’s Candies. I got really pissed that I’d been stuck with Whitman’s Samplers all my life. I also gained about ten pounds (they give out free samples).
It’s probably not a coincidence that we bought a house a few miles from their outlet shop. Our son also grew to love See’s Candies, and the sales people there grew to love him. Every holiday had some See’s, whether it was a chocolate Santa in his stocking or green shamrocks for St. Patrick’s Day.
I dunno about everyone else, but I can’t write for shit these days.
There is no concentration in the time of coronavirus. Not with husband and child sharing less than 1200 square feet with me. If the kid isn’t demanding food, attention, or help with school work, the husband has a conference call on speaker phone. (I don’t understand three-fourths of the conversation, but I’ve learned that most engineers have social skills similar to toddlers. Both equate volume to getting their way.)
If the kid is playing an online game with friends (or without friends) there are shouts of anger and despair.
In Greek mythology, Cassandra of Troy was gifted with the power of prophecy—and cursed that no one would believe her. She was a tragic figure, her wailings of death and destruction ignored even as they came to pass.
As soon as you figure this out, you get on the phone or social media and tell everyone to stay home as much as possible. You share everything from charts to interactive data that can’t be denied. You argue with your dad when he won’t cancel a trip. You yell at your best friend M when she says flights are cheap and she wants to come visit. You warn folks that the more people who go out, the more people will die. You write angry, pleading letters to state officials and School Boards, asking them to close down everything.
By now, most of America is probably aware of #Reclinegate. If you aren’t, it goes like this:
A white woman with back issues reclined her seat on a Delta flight–waiting until after the white man behind her had eaten. (He had the last seat on the plane and could not recline.) The man proceeded to pummel the crap out of the back of her seat. She filmed him. For some reason, the media framed this as a “both sides” issue and ran polls on “who is right?”
Plenty of white men say, “Bitch got what she deserved.”
I titled this post “Valentine’s Day” because it’s the season, but really? Valentine’s Day is a euphemism for sex. Romance, too, but mainly sex.
In our house, BC stands for “Before Children.” Back during Valentine’s Day BC, my husband snuck home from work for “nooners.” We had sex whenever we wanted, but there was always guaranteed sex on Valentine’s Day, his birthday, and our anniversary.
AD stands for “After Dalton,” our son. Valentine’s Day AD? Bahahahaha.
I learned from sisters and mom friends that’s normal. If you’re a halfway decent mom, sex and romance disappear after kids.
It’s not because you didn’t try. Wait, let me rephrase. It’s not because you didn’t want to try.