Yeah, so, mighty, mighty good man David travels for work about once a month. He flies down to LA, usually leaving early Monday or Tuesday morning and coming back Thursday or Friday night.
One of these things happens every time David travels:
- The internet stops working.*
- The Playstation, which we use as a DVD player, stops working.*
- Mighty, mighty good boy Calvin gets sick.
- We get a fuckin’ creeper outside the house and the police never show up.
*The internet or the Playstation stop working depending on which one is most important at the time. For example, if Calvin is obsessed with watching a movie that have on DVD that’s when the Playstation will stop working for some random reason. If it’s a show that’s streaming on Netflix, that’s when the internet will crap out just enough so that it’s constantly giving us the never-ending spinning wheel of 26% loaded.
This time around, it’s Calvin. He’s got a nasty cold. He’s still in pretty good spirits, and there’s no fever. But, I still needed to keep him home from preschool, which meant I had to work from home today, which meant we were trapped in the house together all day. Good times.
The mornings usually go pretty well. He watches TV and eats, and I’m able to work. Later, we have lunch together, and then he starts to get restless.
Here’s some random things I’ve said today:
- “No, honey. Mommy doesn’t want to be spit on.”
- “Please don’t sit on the dog.”
- “Get the colander off your face.”
- “Leave my arm fat alone.”
- “Please stop blowing in my face.”
- “Please stop coughing in my face.”
- “Please stop pretending to eat my face.”
- “Why don’t you go kick the styrofoam heads around?”
I get it. It sucks to be trapped in the house all day with boring-ass mommy, who is trying to work. It’s not my idea of a good time, either. When Calvin wasn’t trying to spit on me or asking me for more juice, more food, more TV, more everything, the dog was barking at me. The dog wants to be let outside. He wants to eat the food that Calvin is eating. He wants outside again. There’s food on the counter in the kitchen, and he would like to eat it now, please. Repeat.
Kids and dogs, amirite?
I’m lucky to have a job that lets me work from home when my kid is sick. Also, it’s probably for the best that I had to work from home anyway. Our boss from our home office in Minnesota is visiting our office this week. I don’t interact with her too much, because the less interaction I have, the less opportunity I have to say something stupid.
I was chatting with a coworker, who had complimented me on my darker red hair color. The new boss walked by, and tried to join in the conversation with a compliment.
“I love your short haircut. I wish I was brave enough to try it,” she said.
“Well, you could get cancer and do chemotherapy so you have no choice to try it” is what I could have said.
Instead, I said, “Thank you,” because I’m polite as fuck. Promotion and a raise, please!