April 20, 2007

Diary of a Shut-In

So much for living the good life in retirement. No sooner did I leave my day job than I came down with Cruddy Lung.

This is not how I envisioned enjoying my freedom. For nearly 20 years I've been a wage slave who never had more than 12 days off in a row. When at long last I left my job for the glamorous life of a freelancer, I imagined myself writing in coffee shops, taking conference calls at the beach, and napping whenever I felt like it.

Napping is the only part that's come true. For two weeks, I've been sitting on the couch, watching TV and breathing noisily. The rest of the time I've been lying in bed, thinking about how life is passing me by.

Rather than let the days pass into oblivion, I decided to document them, so I'd have some sense of accomplishment each day, even if my only "to-do" is "try not to die."

Here's a typical day:

7:30 a.m. Lift head off pillow to confirm suspicion that Corky is throwing herself at the door of her pen, a good indication she's figured out that, although Daddy left after he walked her, Mommy is still in the house.

8:00 a.m. Get up. There's no denying it - Corky's awake and she's pissed. She's squealing like a stuck pig. If you've never heard a French Bulldog howl, type in "talking dog" on YouTube. There's a clip of a Pug who appeared on David Letterman. He shrieks "I love you!" in a voice that sounds like he got his kishkas caught in a blender. Different breed, same unearthly scream.

8:05 a.m. Make coffee.

8:10 - 8:16 a.m. Drink coffee

8:17 a.m. Break up cat-and-dog fight. No blood is shed, just a lot of fur, which causes a coughing fit.

8:20 a.m. Check e-mail. Delete thirteen 'Why haven't I heard from you??" messages.

8:30 a.m. Wake up with my face on my desk. Corky announces the arrival of the Stroller Brigade, a steady stream down the street of babies and Moms who are NOT shut-ins.

8:40 - 10:00 a.m. Watch decorating shows. Between cat naps, ponder the subtle difference between "pumpkin" and "pomegranate" as accent colors.

10:01 a.m. Throw various dog toys in an attempt to distract Corky from chewing on my bedroom slippers.

10:06 a.m. Outside! Go outside! Let's go outside!" Hold leash while Corky runs around. Repeat "Good Girl!" enthusiastically when she produces a pile of poo. This is the high point of her day, and I suspect, mine as well.

10:10 - 1:30 p.m. Design on a Dime, Design on the Cheap, and Design for Dummies.

1:31 p.m. Wake up to the sounds of Mr. Bobo hacking up a hairball in my office. Let Corky take the lead in cleaning it up, which she seems delighted to do. Follow up with a spritz of stain remover. Rub until I get tired.

1:34 p.m. Identify weakened state as hunger. Force down a bowl of Rice Krispies and half a banana. Let Corky wash the bowl.

1:45 p.m. Answer phone and talk to Long's Pharmacy lady until I realize it's a recording announcing that my prescription is ready.

2:00-4:30 p.m. Corky and I watch Decorating with Color, Decorating with Faux Finishes, Decorating with Polka Dots.

4:32 p.m. Daddy's home! Daddy's home! Daddy's home! This merits much barking and jumping!

5:00 p.m. After Daddy and Corky return from their afternoon walk, we de-brief. His day: he arrested a stalker who violated his probation and enrolled a meth addict in a treatment program. My day: I learned how to stencil a lampshade and I managed not to die.

Can't wait until tomorrow.