🧩 Today’s Puzzle Pieces 🧩
Role Reversal ◀️
Work From Wherever ⌚
People Talk Funny 📣
Today was Part I of Operation “Return Wifey Poo’s Ability to Walk Not Like An Old Lady.” We arrived at Barnes Jewish Hospital West, which graciously allowed us entry despite us not being members of the tribe, just before 10 a.m. to begin our odyssey of registration, pre-op, op and post-op for Wifey Poo’s left foot.
First off, kudos, BJW. Very friendly from the welcome desk to the person who wheeled my wounded Wifey Poo back outside.
Seeing Wifey Poo in a hospital bed is odd. Throughout our relationship, I’ve been the one who finds inventive ways to hurt himself, the one who comes down with illnesses and ailments that doctors call “interesting.” The day after our first date, I broke my ankle playing basketball and was on crutches for two months. She’s not the one who’s supposed to be in that bed. That’s my job.
Wifey Poo is simply amazing. She awoke this morning chipper and friendly. The only person who had any hint that she might be just the slightest nervous was me, and the only reason I knew that was because I know that when she’s nervous she has to pee more frequently. (The morning she went skydiving she peed about 450 times.)
Wifey Poo is tougher than I am. She has a higher pain threshold than I do. She has a generally amazing outlook on the hardships of life, whereas I tend to see them as signs of the pending apocalypse.
I admire Wifey Poo. She’s pretty ….
In Other Writing …
Hi. My name is John, and I’m a COVID Longhauler. Saturday was a really, really good day that capped off a really, really good week. Ever since I changed my diet after visiting a functional medicine doctor, I had been feeling so much better than I have since November, when the COVID Fairy visited ourContinue reading “A Look Inside the Uncertainty of a Longhauler’s Fight”
While Wifey Poo was doing her thang, I sat in the hospital lobby area/waiting area/coffee shop and did my work. It’s amazing how much the working world has changed in the past few years.
It seems like yesterday that if an employee said he was going to be working from anywhere other than his desk, everyone raised a skeptical eyebrow and thought he was a real big asshole for trying to find a way around taking an official day off. Now, many employers — and mine is thankfully one of them — accept the fact that work doesn’t have to happen from 9-to-5 at a desk in an office. In fact, for weirdos like me, often my best, most creative and inspired work comes at 6 a.m. from the deck of my humble country home or 6 p.m. at a cigar bar with a good Macanudo in one hand and a Woodford Reserve near my mouse.
Knowing I would have a few hours during the middle of the day today where I’d be tending to Wifey Poo, I started doing what I do at 5:55 a.m., banging out two blogs for our soon-to-be released website by 7:30. I did a whole bunch of website work once we got back home and I helped Wifey Poo get settled. By the time I stopped, it was after 9 p.m. The reality is, if you try to tether me to a desk for a set bunch of hours, you’re not going to get the best of what I do.
And I am not close to being alone in this.
It’s extremely encouraging to me that the world is waking up to reality of people like me.
The next target? Let’s address the eight-hour work day. Like most things with us Americans when it comes to time, it’s arbitrary and not many are really sure how it started. But I can tell you without a doubt that it’s not the way to get the best out of all employees. There are some days when I’m creatively inspired for 10 hours… 12 hours… even more. And there are others when my flame is doused after four or five. If you want to set me a weekly number of hours you’d like me to work, awesome. Just let me distribute the total.
It’s not for my benefit. It’s for my company’s benefit. Trust me, you don’t want me trying to write that website copy when I’m fried.
The ‘What Did You Say’ of the Day
I love that I live in a country where the dominant language is spoken with so much varying flair. I myself am a mish-mash of my New York roots and my Midwest adulthood. Those who knew me in high school are astonished when they hear how not-New York I talk now, while Boys The Elder and Younger both say, “Dad, your New York comes out when you get angry” when I’m going on a rant about, say, how much I can’t wait for Centurylink to go bankrupt. (Side note: F Centurylink. Do I care what happens to them? Fughedabaaaahtit.)
Today’s Reasons to Keep Living
- It’s a worthwhile experiment to stay alive while I need to be Wifey Poo’s caretaker, just in case I realize I missed my calling and find a last-third-of-life career as a nurse.
- My Covid booster shot antibodies should be kicking in right about now. Bring it on, bitch. (Just joking. Please. For the love of God. Don’t.)
- I’m working on a really cool post about how we’re basically on Step 3 of the Seven Steps to the Dawn of Dystopia. Gotta finish that before I kick it.
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Namaste, yo I found myself tonight in a state somewhere between awake and asleep, lying on a yoga mat with 40 pounds of sandbags on my shoulders and chest in a dimly lit studio as soft music tinged by rain sounds caressed my ears. I love this state, and I’ve only found it through meditation…Keep reading
Sell This House Our house hit the market today, which is to say the Great Gods of Google allowed for it to be found by Realtors and anyone else who happens to have a larger-than-average nosy bone. Our Realtor said we could share it with our friends and family. I was trying to think of…Keep reading
Stages of Life Over the years, I’ve found tremendous comfort in the stability of my in-law family, especially with my sisters-in-law and, as time has progressed, their husbands. My own family is pocked by constant drama. It took me a long time to recognize exactly how not-typical my own family is and to realize that…Keep reading
Wakey Wakey My day started off with a bag-full of my blood being drained, filled with ozone and then dripped back into my while I listened to a cancer patient banter about QAnon insanity as if it were gospel with the nurse in charge of my treatment. How was your morning? So Long, Sonny Boy…Keep reading
Interesting Things You Say to Your Spouse “Please don’t get killed by anyone using a sharp object. I don’t want to go to prison for the rest of my life.” This sentence that I said to Wifey-Poo this morning makes sense if you have a spouse who loves murder podcasts and TV shows. My hands…Keep reading
Welcome to the World of Real Estate Starting a new job today was a welcome relief from the drudgery of moving. After getting my ass kicked yesterday in the Great Fridge Swap, I welcomed the opportunity to use my brain instead of whatever physical power I might have left. This is the first time I’m…Keep reading
Perspective Matters I don’t know exactly when I learned it or from whom, but I’ve held “righty-tighty, lefty-loosey” as a Truth-capital-T for a long, long time. Today I learned it’s a matter of perspective. Yesterday, I bragged about how I have become Mr. Fix-It. Today, the God of Home Improvement (Tim Allen?) smacked me in…Keep reading
Begone, Cabinet! There was a time not long ago when I had zero self-confidence with home repair or renovation projects. It seemed as if every time I tried something, I made the situation worse and often a lot worse. This runs counter to my DNA, as my father is constantly tinkering with things and fixing…Keep reading
Moving Is Fun … … when someone else does it. At just before 9 a.m., movers from Two Men and a Truck arrived at our Wentzville house. There were four men. Within three hours, they’d loaded up all the crap we had boxed and the furniture and other assorted LifeJunk we’ve accumulated through the years.…Keep reading
He Got the Shot I took Boy the Younger to get his first COVID vaccine today. He’s 12. I consider this the socially responsible thing to do, and, after struggling for months now with Longhaul COVID, I’m really not all that open to hearing the other side of the vaccine debate. I’ve made up my…Keep reading