The week on Sunday no 1
I’m terrible at keeping it a secret: my favorite time in the week is when Anja1 works from home. We spent the past month building a home office in a one-bedroom apartment, and I’m happy about the result. Monday is Uni day for her. I find it endearing that her Statistics course is throwing her for a loop a little bit.
“Work is so great!” I think to myself on Tuesday. My onboarding period is somewhat odd because of two separate birth leaves in my team. Now that my fellow designer is back again, I have to conclude that she is an utter blast. Anja attempts to use her iPad as a sidecar but doesn’t get the audio right. This makes it so that I can hear all of her pupils wrestle through 1984. When she discusses a particular rainy scene, a girl says “like, I don’t know, it’s, like, just typically English”, and we both smile.
After work on Wednesday, I take a bike ride on Anja’s super fast ebike and almost run over a young woman in Vondelpark. Running after dusk without lights should be prohibited. I bike for miles and get lost a couple times, one of the perks of living in a large city, I call that. I plan to go to bed early, but find myself drifting in and out as we watch the second impeachment of Trump until past midnight instead.
On Thursday, my /now page is published on nownownow.com. After a beautiful day at the home office, I’m excited to play around with the Apple Watch I got in the mail when my mother calls me at 9 p.m. On speaker phone, she pours a wide variety of complaints into the room, and I tell her I don’t need her parentification2. It’s no use expecting that she will remember what I say three months from now, so I tell her the truth.
I accidentally have myself a total Miracle Morning on Friday: I meditate on kindness, I take a walk in the neighborhood, and update my finances. We hate-watch the Surviving Death episodes on mediums. Anja tells me she’s been to more than one seance in her life. I wish there was a separate TV channel just for medium weekend retreats.
On Saturday, at 990 days of sobriety, I sign up for a queer-friendly AA meeting. Not drinking is easy, but I haven’t begun to connect my alcohol abuse to the rest of my life, and it makes me feel weird. I spend the better part of the day tinkering with my personal site.