And now I’m mixing my metaphors and making bad analogies. I’m not even sure those references apply.
To quote my good friend and fellow blogger, @GrumbleGirl, “Le sigh.”
In my last post, published on January 4th, I mentioned that my mom was in the hospital and that I was staying at my parents’ house to help out while she recovered. I had the audacity to think I would actually be able to post more often, since I’d be home from work and have (insert air quotes) so much time on my hands.
What the heck was I thinking? In between making meals and doing grocery shopping and doing a little housekeeping, I was also trying to continue doing my full-time job, just from a remote location. It’s hard taking care of three people! That’s the whole reason I don’t even have houseplants!
I haven’t been in my office since December 20th. My time off went from being a luxurious, holiday extravaganza (okay, perhaps I’m exaggerating there) to a busy and tense few days of doctor visits with my mom, packing, traveling home, unpacking and repacking and traveling back to her house for her surgery. In between, despite a holiday shutdown at our office, I was trying to write a new business proposal. And then I slid into the routine of waking up at my parents’ house, making breakfast for my parents, and then checking in at work.
It’s been a month now, and quite honestly, I’m frazzled from being so out-of-sync. When you work every day, whether it’s in an office or at home, you daydream about what you would do with time off–real time off, completely disconnected from work, like where they lose your phone number and your laptop inexplicably falls out a window–like relax and not feel guilty about not working and laze around reading books and visiting friends and trying out new recipes and watching all the Harry Potter movies back-to-back. And when that seems too good to be true, you think about how you’d even settle for a sick day.
Well, a month of working from home in jeans and jammies has left me disconnected, bloated, behind on all my creative projects and forgetting the names of friends and clients. And I won’t even mention the shape my fingernails are in! I’m not complaining about caring for my parents–I’m glad I was able to do it and felt a bit guilty leaving before my mom was truly up and around completely. But getting ready for work this week, I’m so far removed from my daily routine that I keep forgetting little activities in my morning prep–so I found myself running back into the house for my lunch or coffee mug, forgetting to put on mascara, and losing all track of time. I’ve been torturing myself for days to think of something hilarious to write for this blog post, to reward your loyalty in coming back to check on me and see if anything new is up, but no fun topic motivated me to write.
I’m sorry, but I am still searching for my mojo. It seems my crazy break has become my new routine, and now I have to break bad habits all over again.
I guess that’s what makes weekends and holidays so special, though–that break in the daily grind is special specifically because you know the routine is still following right behind.