The Other Shoe

 So that dropped.

In short, my remote status was revoked, and even though my 3-hour one way commute was taken under advisement (I was told), TPTB think it’s A) reasonable for me to do and B) think it’s reasonable I pay my own expenses for hotel etc.

Any reasonable person would think this unreasonable.

We’ll throw in my life circumstances, of which HR was well aware when they hired me, and it all adds up to a hard no pretty quickly.

Needless to say, my hard no was not appreciated.

So I find myself with the clock running quickly down to 3 weeks + 1 business day hence to get these particular affairs in order and figure out what’s next.

That particular white board is currently blank.

And while I have a long, long list of things here at home I can attend to, I’ve been at this working gig for 45 years, and the unknown of it is scary, although I’ve lived long enough to have been here before and figured something out.

You’d think by now it would be less scary.

You’d think.

Saltines and sardines

 Way back in the dark ages, I remember finding a tin of sardines in the cupboard. I don’t remember exactly when, but I’m pretty sure I knew at the time I was looking at a dad relic.

These are things that eventually disappeared over time. Only now, almost 50 years later, I’m remembering what he liked. And the memories are often random; I could make a list of the things, but that would lose the ‘how’ and maybe even the ‘why.’

Sardines lately have meant a portable meal, and I realize they aren’t for everyone. I packed several tins plus some fruit and microwaveable Indian food for my weekend up at Hawk Mountain. One rainy day kept us indoors and eating lunch at our desks, and the guy half of an older couple taking the course kept razzing me about my sardines. No idea why, except maybe he thought it was cool to loudly mock my lunch.

I didn’t care; I put him on ignore and so did everyone else.

It took one of my sorties last month to the job site to gel the sardine connection. I was in my hotel room feeling sorry for myself and preparing my dinner. I remembered the saltines I had saved from a meal out with soup and added those to the sardines…

…and suddenly I remembered this combination from way, way back, memories that lack the visual but have all the other senses, things that connect me back to My Person. I smiled before I drank my Belgium ale, thinking My Person would have gone for PBR in a frosty mug.

And suddenly a lot of the stuff I enjoy that most people would find weird makes sense. This is my wiring. And I find new ways to connect.

Oh, no, you don’t…

 There’s so much stuff happening right now.

And it’s everything, everywhere, all at once. To coin a phrase.

How do I sum it all up? I guess I can’t, so I’ll do one thing at a time.

Work is in a weird holding pattern; my remote at convenience was revoked, and I refuse the three-hour one-way commute that comes with the two-day hybrid dictum, so I’m waiting and doing the thing while the powers that be figure out what to do with me and my ilk (because I am not the only one). I bring my A game til they shut me down.

Younger is on spring break.  I refuse to look at his grades. School is his thing to manage, and I assume competence, for better or worse.

Elder is..,.doing his thing. Still stuck, but not exactly. Weight is coming down. But his head is in a weird space.

Keeping my head up, bringing good energy, trying to keep us all moving forward. Some days, it’s a struggle.