No more bundling up, for now

“Don’t look there. Look over there.”

Opening my closet to pick out what I was wearing to work, my eyes first focused on the same placed they had for most of the past six months — the long-sleeve, button-down shirts.

That’s what happens when winter and its various vestiges last until the middle of May.

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Time to get moving

Oh, hello, maker of loud noises to make me get out of bed.

I remember you.

A friend recently told me a story about hitting snooze on her alarm multiple times and then dilly-dallying so long that she was late for something. I asked her, if she was going to sleep longer, why she didn’t just set her alarm a half-hour later.

One more week

I start my new job in seven days.

Until then, however, I’ll be at the afternoon job I’ve had since early September.

My supervisors and most of my coworkers know I’m leaving, but the people we work with don’t. I assume that info will be shared at some point, and my guess is that some will be sad, a few may be happy and most won’t give it much thought once I’m out the door Friday afternoon.

The rain finally stopped

What would it be like when it happened?

As it turned out, I was going to my part-time job that afternoon and had just parked the car when the phone rang.

Between taking my mask off, hanging my badge around my neck and answering the phone, the things-to-hands ratio was not in my favor, and I knocked my glasses off so they were sitting between the seat and the door.

Klutziness aside, the phone call was what I hoped it would be … a job offer.

A computer fights the end

It’s almost like it knows.

I’m not sure how it knows, because while it was built to do many things, I’m pretty sure understanding the passage of time and how the end comes for all of us wasn’t one of them.

But I’m starting to think it knows about the whispers (which are less whispers and more open conversation) about how maybe, depending on what happens, it could be replaced.

When a joke gets real

I was only joking.

A year ago, I wrote about how wished I had thought of making “puts laundry away right after I finish it” the first line of my resume.

And for a bonus, I’d make sure to bring up my mastery of sock-matching during any interview, and brag about my expertise in loading the dishwasher in the second line.

The week gone by — Sept. 5

I left my mask on and the lanyard with my ID badge hanging from my neck as I walked to the car. I didn’t need either of them at that point, but I just didn’t feel like taking them off yet.

The weather was beautiful, the rain from the very northern edge of Ida’s remnants having stopped that morning.

It had been quite a day and quite a week, even if both were short.

Remembering happy days at work

I don’t know if I should start with the meeting in the Cape Cod conference room or the insomnia-induced emails that got us to that point.

Either way, I must include that Saturday afternoon, when I was interviewing for a job in a T-shirt and jeans because the offer for the interview came up while Suzi and I were house-hunting after she got a job on the Cape and therefore we were going to be moving from where we had been living outside Albany.

And while that was going on, my father-in-law poked his head in to ask if there were any restrooms in the building.

Waiting to go home

Ten years ago, I went to Canandaigua, New York, to spend a few days in one of our company’s offices as part of a management-training program.

I enjoyed my time there. Everyone was friendly. The work was interesting, and the town was lovely in the evening.

Plus, they took me to lunch at the Wegmans food court, which may well have been life-changing.

The week gone by — Aug 9

Oooooh … there’s new email.

Ugh … it’s another one from the job board where most of the links are dead or months old.

What’s this one? Just a newsletter that I signed up for that sometimes has useful info, but not usually.