Frogmorton continues to spend his evenings watching television (nature documentaries are his favorite, but as I write he’s quite intent on Whip It) and demanding during the rest of the day to go out on the balcony. It’s icy cold at the moment, cold enough that he vacillates about whether to go outside or not, and then when he is out, he stands up on his back legs, front paws on the railing, and I stare at him, worried he’s going to leap up and make a dive for freedom. So far, no feline escapees.
After a second day of work, I feel just as exhausted as after the first. The adjustment from not thinking at all for two weeks, to having to sit and concentrate again, is a big step. Still, give it a few days and I’ll be normal. As normal as it gets.
We’ve discovered one flaw in working from home: every Wednesday our cleaner comes and plugs in the vacuum cleaner, and then the breaker trips and the internet vanishes for half an hour. Maybe I need to adjust which days I’m in the office… but then who would pay attention to Frogmorton?