I have no idea. But it’s much better than pure gray. The blurring adds mystery, makes Japanese watercolors out of the banal.

Took a drive last night for an ice cream, first time in six days outside the perimeter of our house. Sat in the parking lot by myself spooning a Turtle Cluster before it melted, a bit self-pitying. Took the long way home by the little park. Turned off the bed lamp at 2000 again with that self-pity, Dawn sleeping on the couch now since I came down with Covid, had to change her plans for Colorado.

Caffeinated and coughing in the early mornings, caged in. Trying to sound cogent on work meetings: the brain fog akin to network latency, delayed transmission. Or the brain stutters / freezes. Coming off mute feeling emboldened to speak up, raising my little animated hand, the sense I’m on to something, then later wondering if I really was, and what they made of me. So much of this corporate work is how you show up in meetings.

Re: the fog, not sure if caffeine burns it off or produces more. The brain fog. Occludes shapes and concepts. Shortness of breath is a common symptom and I get it just gathering up the garden hose, probably from the caffeine. There was a time when I worked at Starbucks and had my first bout of work anxiety I had to go off it as it was giving me near panic attacks. I tried going in to work sans caffeine and it felt like being unshowered, or one of those dreams where you look down and realize you’re naked. Starbucks HQ is not the place to kick caffeine; you simply can’t keep up with other people’s dialogue or get a word in edgewise.

Tested positive again last night though I’m feeling better. Felt a bummer way to end the day. Glad my work desk is right next to the bed as I can roll on and off like an animatron, an electromechanical device lurching to life when activated. Kind of sounds that way when I talk too.

Categories: Corporate America, Creative Nonfiction

Tags: journal writing, short form, Technology