Just to keep you all updated—I moved my work from home day from Tuesday to Wednesday. Make note.
My Internet at work is moving at the speed of 17 slugs in a race. My laptop has some serious issues. When I’m at home, it refuses to connect to my home wireless connection, so I snake a 50 foot (literally) cord from our main Internet magic hub thingy through the sun room, through the dining room, through the kitchen, into my living area where I spend the bulk of my time. Awesome. My home computer is set up in another living room that has no view of the tv and no ceiling fan and no natural light. Ridiculous. Remember the good old days when I could just sit down anywhere in the house and log on? Those days are GONE!!!
Remember even older days when I was in college and used to log in via something called “dial in”? Oy…those were some crazy days. I remember doing research online and it would be a matter of, click on something then start typing my paper, then go back to the Internet and see if the page had loaded yet. Repeat process. Expect 20 minutes to open a page with lots of graphics.
I can’t remember what website it was through, but I used to play trivia in a trivia-specific chat room. It was tons of fun. Whoever answered correctly would ask the next question. I’m not kidding when I say I would have my trivial pursuit cards with me at my desk, cause who can think of a good hard trivia question off the top of their head? We had little premade icons that we could move around inside our “room” and you could link up to someone and have a private chat. This is like going off to the closet for the game Seven Minutes in Heaven.
Remember the game Seven Minutes in Heaven? I played this for the first time in 7th grade at a church sleep-in (they get a large group of teens together with 2-3 adults and let you stay up all night and play games. No one sleeps—what do you expect teens will do?). My time in the closet would have been more accurately called “Seven Minutes in Awkward Silence.”
Sometimes my office gets so quiet that I think people can hear me breathing.
My cat sometimes takes these big huge breaths and I wonder if I should take her to the vet and have her looked at…but then I remember how expensive vets are just to talk to and I start to believe that she must be fine, just fine.
Moving from apartment life to house life has a few differences--one is that you shouldn’t naturally hear noises around you. Living in the apartment, I always heard noises at night and could always just assume it’s a neighbor. And now when I hear a noise, I assume that I am about to be murdered at any moment. I use this information to stay as still as possible in bed so that when the killer enters my bedroom to kill me, he doesn’t miss. I don’t want to die a terrified death while running from someone down the hallway, being hacked to death. I’ll be fine, just fine, laying in my bed and being killed with one blow.
Hmmm…that sounds gruesome. Reality is sometimes hard to stomach people!
Speaking of stomachs, I am on a treadmill kick!! Feel free to send lots of encouragement my way cause I want to lose something, anything, SOMETHING before Mexico. I did really well last week – 4X on the treadmill. Yesterday I did a full hour of treadmilling. I’m not typically a fast walker, but I think anything I do beyond my normal routine is progress, yeah? So last night I was kicking treadmill-ass. You know how dancing really burns calories and is a great aerobic workout? Well I do double-duty, my friends – I’m tread-dancing. I turn the treadmill down to about a 1.8-2.1 and turn the music up and dance while I walk. I like to pretend I’m coming on to the stage…Justin Timberlake doesn’t just walk on stage. He dances! And so does Kaylen. Tread-dancing burns way more calories. I wish I watched more music videos and could dance an entire choreographed routine but I do a’ight making up my own. The crowd (in my head) goes wild when I step onstage. Try it. You’ll thank me later. Don’t forget that key part about turning the speed WAY down. And don’t come crying to me if you aren’t coordinated and fall and get hurt. It’s not my fault and I don’t need the guilt about it. (but try it! It’s fun!)