Today's chief complaint

I had a pretty productive morning, all things considered. I’d promised my project leader at work that I’d make up the time from Monday on Saturday. Lo and behold, I woke up this morning and got my ass in gear quick enough to make good on my promise. Seven o’clock and I sat down at my computer to work. Got productive, too – at least for the first ninety minutes.

And then the dog nudged me in the thigh. All right, Chester, let’s go for our walk. So we went for our walk. And then I opened the kitchen cabinet – no coffee. All out of coffee. Have to have coffee in order to work. So I drove down to Starbucks, waited in line for the post—grad who was grinding coffee this morning. Got to have bagels and lox, so I stopped at the bakery for some fresh-out-of-the-oven bagels, then got home.

When I got home, I looked at the air conditioning vents. It’d been two months since I cleaned them, and boy did it show. So after I started up the coffee, I cleaned the vents. And then I sat down to work, breathing slowly. I’d only lost forty minutes – incredible, it seemed so much longer. Thank God the dog pooped quickly instead of procrastinating like he usually does.

So off I go, working. And then Mike wakes up, turns on the music, comes into the den, starts talking, can’t imagine what it’s about, some sex scandal or show on TV. I tune him out with “yes, I know” and “isn’t that interesting” responses, but he isn’t fooled. So he goes back to the bedroom and plays on his computer while I finish my work.

And then I decide to do laundry. Now who doesn’t do the laundry when they work at home? It’s de rigeur, as the French say. And I also brushed the dog – got a mountain-full of hair out of him, good for me – doesn’t that have to be done Saturday mornings?

And then back to work again. Look at the clock, only an hour to go before I hit the requisite six. Surprising to say, I get into it. There are days I’ve worked at home, I don’t get into it, and there are days that I do. This is one of those when I do. Productive, makes me feel like I’m actually worth the bucks they pay me to pretend that I like my job. Well, I don’t have to pretend. Today, I like my job.

So what’s my chief complaint? I have to work this damned Saturday at all. All because my father has Alzheimer’s Disease and I had to take him to his neurologist on Monday afternoon. And I’ve had this horrible gas all morning long. That damned nova lox, after all.