San Francisco loves its labels. Its assumptions. Its solutions in search of problems.
It is very concerned with image. And differences. And the more you embrace diversity, the cooler you are, which is cool, I guess, but in trying to be inclusive and edgy and a worldly person of concern it creates a distance between the people who live here.
The city is full of pods of particular types of people. The city loves recognizing this aloud and often.
Working from home means getting to stay all day on the world's most comfortable couch.I've told you about my couch, but what you don't know is that it is like sitting in a hug. It pulls you close, but not too close, and it's all springy and soft, so soft you find yourself petting it.
Being sick sucks, but getting to work from the cushiest couch on the West Coast is all right.
I'm sick. Or at least getting there. Sore throat, hurty ears, cold chills, weak, grumpy--the works.Now that I live alone I don't have to worry about sequestering myself to a tiny room. My entire studio is potentially an infection zone.
If you can't have Mama around to bring you more covers, fix you some soup with Saltines and Sprite, and brush your forehead, then this is what is needed to feel better:
Gitano red/white striped night gown from 8th grade. Still fits; feels like a well-loved mitten.
Couch, big and cushy
White wine (antioxidants!)
Giant water bottle on refill
Amy's frozen tamale meal (in case hunger hits, there will be no cooking)
Tissues to build your pity party fort
Real Simple magazine, so you can plan all the shit you are going to do when you feel better