The article was full of what is now the standard advice about setting up a dedicated workspace, getting up and moving around, establishing a schedule, blah blah blah. But it was fine. It was well-written and cheerful, and didn’t take more than a minute or so to read.
After I read the article, I looked out my window for a few minutes, doing nothing as I waited for my first call of the day. Before all this (meaning the COVID-19 lockdown, which began two months ago today) started, I only worked from home once a week or so, and I was usually home by myself, so I never really needed a dedicated home office; and I never really wanted one. We have a small house. A real home office, I thought, would take up space that I require for other purposes.
But a full-time WFH schedule during a stay-at-home order that keeps everyone in my household at home most of the time made a dedicated workspace a necessity. My husband and older son both work at the dining room table, and I just can’t look at their piles of paper. I don’t even know why they have piles of paper. It’s 2020. We have technology.
Anyway, at the end of March, I got my husband to bring in an old student desk that we had stored in the garage. We cleaned it up, and I set it up in the most sunlit corner of my living room, and that’s where I’m sitting right now.
 |
| It's small, but it has a nice view. |
There are two windows in this corner; one that looks out on my backyard, and one that looks into the (non-crazy) neighbor’s yard. For the sake of privacy (theirs and mine), I would have preferred to set my desk up in front of my own backyard, but the desk didn’t look right there. It looks fine under the other window, and I only see a small corner of their yard (and my side yard), so it’s fine. In fact, the view is my favorite part of my WFH day.
*****
My neighbor’s yard is very English-looking. From the window in front of my desk, I can see a tangle of shrubs, flowering and not; all greener than I might expect given the absurd cold in April and early May. I also see garden implements, pots, spades, watering cans, and randomly placed flower and vegetable beds, bordered by 18-inch-tall wire fencing, the kind with repeating concentric arches. There’s a wrought iron table and chairs, and a few planters growing I don’t know what. I feel a little guilty about staring out the window at their yard but they’re never out there on weekdays when I sit at this window. And I guess there’s no law against looking out my own window.
Right in the middle of their side yard, my neighbors have a little bird feeder, hanging from a stand designed just for that purpose. There are frequent bird visitors, some familiar and some not. I never see the birds at the feeder; in fact, I don’t know if there’s anything in there for them. It’s a decorative bird feeder and maybe it’s just there for show. But the birds do like the garden, and I don’t blame them. It’s pretty and peaceful and not so well-tended as to be forbidding, but not neglected, either. If I was a bird, I’d be out there, too.
*****
I keep trying to get pictures of the birds, but they do not like the paparazzi. Yesterday, I was listening to a speaker during a demonstration, and a bird of an unfamiliar but interesting type landed in a tree that’s about eight feet away from the window. He sat on a branch for a few minutes, happily picking at something, and he seemed completely unaware of my presence. I reached for my phone, slowly and stealthily, almost still as I carefully moved the phone into photo-taking position. But as soon as I had my finger near the shutter button, the bird noticed me, and he took off like he was fired out of a howitzer, a little feathered mortar blasting itself away from pesky photographers. I was so close.
As I mentioned, the bird was not one that I could identify. This is not unusual. I don’t recognize most bird species other than easy-to-spot common varieties like robins and cardinals and pigeons and bluejays. On the other hand, I’m pretty sure that I’ve seen a number of new and different bird species during my recent weeks at the window. I don’t know if this is a function of the “heal the earth” nonsense that crazy people who are enjoying the pandemic lockdown a little too much like to spout on Facebook; or if it’s just a matter of me sitting still and looking out the window long enough to notice what has probably been right in front of me all along.
*****
One morning last week, I turned on the light, turned on my computer, and opened the blinds on the window in front of my desk, just in time to see a fox dart through my side yard. It was 7:15 in the morning, broad daylight. I always think of foxes as nocturnal but apparently they are sometimes active during the day, too. And this was first thing in the morning, so maybe he was wrapping up his day’s work and heading toward wherever he nests so he could go to sleep.
According to my cursory internet research, foxes are also shy and retiring and avoid humans as much as possible. I avoid them as much as possible too, so we shouldn’t have any conflicts. There’s room enough for two in this town and as long as a fox doesn’t bare its teeth at me in a rabid-seeming manner, then I’ll consider the more-than-occasional fox-sighting as just one neighbor running into another. We’ll nod a quick acknowledgement and then go on about our business.
*****
As often happens, I had to go back and read this from the beginning to see how it all started. It’s about a week after I started writing this; Monday afternoon and I’m just finishing work for the day, and still sitting at my desk in front of the window. My only animal visitor today was domestic, not wild; the neighbor’s dog was roaming his property, king of all he surveyed.
People are beginning to emerge from isolation, with or without official permission. We went to our neighbor’s front yard happy hour on Saturday night; everyone bringing their own drinks and glasses, and sitting in chairs placed six feet apart. We chatted and drank wine for a while, exchanged socially distant air hugs and walked home in the finally summery evening air. It’s chilly again today, but we’re definitely turning a corner toward consistently warm weather. The next day, my son met some friends at the pool parking lot. They played a made-up ball game that involved no physical contact, and my son showered and changed his clothes as soon as he came home. Mental health is as important as physical health, and teenagers need their friends.
One of the friends I saw on Saturday is a veterinarian. She told funny animal stories, and I dreamed funny animal dreams in which birds sat still and posed for pictures and foxes reminded each other to social distance and dogs complained about yet another fucking Zoom call. That last one was probably me. But I’m done for today.
No comments:
Post a Comment