On the way in to work on Tuesday I rolled over a stupid little curb that the town of Chapel Hill, in its infinite wisdom, had put in place to protect pedestrians at an intersection where there are very few pedestrians. As if, if there were any, motorists would be unlikely to see them. What we are unlikely to see, it turns out, is this little curb itself when it is in shade on a bright summer's morn. So my noggin and back got a little jostled and I have ended up staying home and working mild days with the comfort of my own couch nearby, should I choose to make use of it. As I have at times. I've limited screen time and have begun listening to a novel (Deepti Kapoor's The Age of Vice) on my phone. It's fun, a sprawling Dickensian thing which really reminds us, as if we needed it, of the epic stretch and diversity of India as a place. It's a little overwrought, but none of us is perfect.
But the best thing about staying home has been settling back in to the rhythm of the work from home MO. It is definitely just more relaxed and there's something joyous about not having to get dressed and to fully managing not just my own time but my own space. I can control when the seltzer machine runs out of CO2 and also I am not tempted by all these extraneous snacks, all this food which my deeply embedded grad school money/calorie hoarding programming tells me I should eat because it is there and involves no additional expense.
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