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unsupervised
Jan. 31st, 2019 02:30 pmMy coworker had resolved to come in today, but as he was on a major street close to his house he was overtaken by an actual snowmobile, and when he stopped to buy coffee, as was his custom, he discovered that the coffee shop was closed.
So he turned around and went home.
Immediately after that, the lake effect band swung north and we're in it now. It's meant to recede by evening, though, so I should be able to go home by 5 or so.
The ice cream shop remains closed, though. We stare through the windows at it disconsolately every so often. (I have to go downstairs to do that; there are no windows up here.)
I've fucked around, since there's no supervision, until I've had a surfeit of fucking around, and I just want to go home. I know I won't have the energy to do anything when I get there, but I want to start a new sewing project, and all I can do here is fret and think about it. I won't do it, though, when I get there, so. I might as well sit here and get paid. I've put out a few things that could have blossomed into fires without me here, so there's that; it's not futile. I'm just not being super productive.
I listened to folk music all morning and now I've moved on to early-00s gay club bangers. It's not as liberating as you'd think.
We have had 0 customers all day-- but there's a lot for the photo lab to do, and I've had a normal amount of online orders.
I have been fucking around by writing a tiny fic for Uprooted, which we'll see if I can ever make have enough of a punchline to get posted. I am so jealous of all of you who can write exquisite little 1000-word things. Mine's 3,800 words and hasn't decided whether it has a point yet. And it's not a big fandom, so it's not like I'll get many readers of it. Especially since I think it's going to be 100% introspection and 0 action or sex. So like. Well-- whatever. It's better than not writing anything, which was what else was going to happen.
Oh yeah-- yesterday when unsupervised I made a bunch of new icons, so-- I probably won't use them, since I'm so thoroughly out of the habit, but there we go! A snowflake.
So he turned around and went home.
Immediately after that, the lake effect band swung north and we're in it now. It's meant to recede by evening, though, so I should be able to go home by 5 or so.
The ice cream shop remains closed, though. We stare through the windows at it disconsolately every so often. (I have to go downstairs to do that; there are no windows up here.)
I've fucked around, since there's no supervision, until I've had a surfeit of fucking around, and I just want to go home. I know I won't have the energy to do anything when I get there, but I want to start a new sewing project, and all I can do here is fret and think about it. I won't do it, though, when I get there, so. I might as well sit here and get paid. I've put out a few things that could have blossomed into fires without me here, so there's that; it's not futile. I'm just not being super productive.
I listened to folk music all morning and now I've moved on to early-00s gay club bangers. It's not as liberating as you'd think.
We have had 0 customers all day-- but there's a lot for the photo lab to do, and I've had a normal amount of online orders.
I have been fucking around by writing a tiny fic for Uprooted, which we'll see if I can ever make have enough of a punchline to get posted. I am so jealous of all of you who can write exquisite little 1000-word things. Mine's 3,800 words and hasn't decided whether it has a point yet. And it's not a big fandom, so it's not like I'll get many readers of it. Especially since I think it's going to be 100% introspection and 0 action or sex. So like. Well-- whatever. It's better than not writing anything, which was what else was going to happen.
Oh yeah-- yesterday when unsupervised I made a bunch of new icons, so-- I probably won't use them, since I'm so thoroughly out of the habit, but there we go! A snowflake.
