I’ve Zoom-bombed enough of Nate’s work meetings to finally convince him to please, please “get a room.” The “nerve center” for the county finance department, is currently our kitchen/dining room, and I’m the comedy-relief backdrop. I come stumbling into the kitchen several times throughout the day, and I rip open packages of snacks and chew loudly—and wear the same yoga pants I’ve been wearing since at least 2015. Also, I’ve not seen the backs of these yoga pants. I’m not sure what condition they’re in, but I’ll bet all of Nate’s workmates do—and I’m sure they make bets and comments about how long my yoga pants will last.
Yes, I’m kind of embarrassed, but I’m mostly worried about Nate—particularly his backside. He has been complaining about sitting on the dining room chairs for so long, and things are hurting—things for which he needs ointments and appointments. So, I bought special pillows, but they are not working. What he really needs is some office furniture in our spacious bedroom that also has a view of the mountains—which would make for a much better backdrop than faded yoga pants, worn by someone who is munching on things and reading the ingredients out loud to Alex, who is upstairs:
“Hey, Alex! Did you know that Easy Cheese in a can has something called apocarotenal in it? Alex? Are you listening to me? Can you hear me? It’s an orange-colored thing that comes from spinach, which is green, so I don’t know how that works. Do you know anything about it? Alex? How does this squeezy cheese work? Nate! Nate! I need help with the Easy Cheese cap. I can’t get it off. Oh, wait! Are you in a meeting? Oops!”
In any case, I decided to order some office furniture for the master bedroom this weekend. To get Nate’s input, I took pictures of two chairs and one desk and showed them to him while he was eating lunch. I made it fun by announcing that today, at lunch, we were going to have “picture time.” “Picture time” consists of only three pictures and one choice. I’m not messin’ around.
I’ve also decided to clean out the crafting nook so that Nate has a place to put papers and work stuff—instead of leaving it all over the dining room table where I could get spray cheese all over budget spreadsheets. I could just imagine what Nate’s colleagues and supervisors would say. They would probably say, “I’ll bet Yoga-Pants-Lady did it.”
It was difficult to convince Nate that I would clean out the crafting nook. Here’s how that conversation went:
Nate: I don’t need to use the crafting nook space for my work stuff.
Me: Yes, you do.
Nate: You don’t have to clean out the crafting nook.
Me: Yes, I do.
Nate: It’s not necessary.
Me (with a trash bag in my hands): Already done, baby. Already done. Bam!
So, the crafting nook is no longer the crafting nook. I took out all of the Christmas and crafting supplies and stuffed them in my jeans and underwear drawers. I couldn’t find a place for boxes and shopping bags, so the crafting nook still has those items—along with extra thank-you and Christmas cards. Still, there are wide open spaces for all of Nate’s folders and work stuff—which he can neatly tuck away into the crafting nook.
The office furniture is coming soon, and I can’t wait to put it together—in the dining room/kitchen on a weekday, during Nate’s working hours—with a can of spray cheese and my yoga pants. I plan on going out in a blaze of Zoom background glory.
Your Turn: Are you or your loved ones working at home because of the coronavirus? Where do you prefer to work?