9-to-Fi’day

Most of the time, I work Tuesday through Saturday, 12 pm-8 pm.  Even though my job is great in myriad other ways, I think this shift has been a huge contributor to my professional satisfaction in the past two years.  My prior 8-5 jobs filled me with resentment every morning, as the alarm would jangle me from my slumber, to shower and dress in the dark.  Even the job I had that was a mere 3 miles away still necessitated waking at 6:30 to be arrive before 8, thanks to my unruly hair and Atlanta’s equally unmanageable traffic.  That 3-mile drive could take upwards of 20 minutes, resulting in such severe road rage that I’m shocked I didn’t have a heart attack as I pulled into my driveway, cursing and puffing.  I was extremely attached to the idea that the voyage to or from the office should never surpass 15 minutes, and because of this stubborn belief I often arrived at work closer to 8:05 than 7:59.

A number of years ago, I worked for Eddie Bauer as a customer support agent from the comfort of my bedroom. Selling khakis and down coats wasn’t exactly fulfilling, but not having to wear a bra or pants was so liberating that it almost made up for the constant pressure to upsell. I only needed 5 minutes of lead time to prep for work.  I could eat a home-cooked lunch, poop on my own toilet, and vacuum on the clock.  Working from home was second place to getting to sleep in every day, but being tied to the phone all day put a damper on the excitement of wallowing in my introversion.   When there is no lag time between phone calls, the perks of telecommuting are basically nil. My ideal job would allow me to both sleep in AND not leave the house, but I’ll settle for either.

Today I was scheduled to work a 9-5 shift, which was a literal rude awakening after the past couple years of noon arrivals. I forgot that this is a thing my department does on or before holidays, and I was really not mentally equipped for the traffic, both coming and going. It slipped my mind how luxurious it is to be home before the sun starts to sink, too, though. I’m already on the couch with my dogs, and it’s not even close to 8 yet!

Okay now that I said a bunch of words, I can talk about food and clothes.  Zach is super skilled at making Asian, or at least Asian-inspired (seeing as I haven’t been to any Asian nation, I can’t vouch for authenticity), dishes.  He blends flavors, textures and techniques deftly, and even when the meal is something I’m wary of, I end up enjoying it. Last night he made a warm cellophane noodle salad, topped with spicy garlic lemongrass grilled shrimp, culantro, cucumber, mint, toasted ground rice, and some homemade Nước chấm. It was filling and beautiful and even though I would probably never ask for it, I wouldn’t kick it out of bed.

I’m showing you my noods

I usually plan my outfits in advance, but sometimes Morning Alison disagrees with Night Alison’s choices.  I had an eShakti skirt all picked out, but this morning I couldn’t bring myself to put on two pieces of clothing and just wanted to wear a dress.  I stuck with the eShakti theme, mostly because I didn’t feel like choosing a different pair of shoes and these Miz Mooz were already sitting out. These earrings were a Burlington Coat Factory find, and the belt is from Amazon.  The latte is from West Elm because I’m going to make that dude like me whether he wants to or not.  I will not give up.  At least until I find better coffee for less money.

I’m working from home tomorrow, so will likely not be getting dressed at all. Zach won’t be here either, so even if I did get dressed, no one would be around to take my picture.  I may not do any wearing of clothes or sharing of complaints until Tuesday or so, but I promise I still love you so much and didn’t forget about you.  I hope you get to go swimming this weekend, but that no bugs bite you and the pool area is free of children.