These days I work from home. Contrary to what Boris Johnson would have people think, that doesn’t mean I spend all day walking to the fridge to get some more cheese. If I wanted cheese I’d probably bring the whole lot and put it on my desk to save the trips. Of course, I could do that if I went to work too since I’m not an imbecile. I haven’t eaten any cheese since I started working from home (circa 2 weeks ago). Neither have I watched a single episode of Jeremy Kyle. I have eaten a whole jar of pickled onions since Sunday, but if that’s wrong I don’t want to live in a world that’s “right”.
So I’m not pigging out or watching trash tv, but there must be some weakness in my psyche that I succumb to when working from home (other than the pickled onion fiasco). After all, I’m not a superhuman. My brain runs with electrical impulses like a computer, but it’s soft and mushy like any other real living being. What’s my Achilles’ heel? I can tell you (since I know you won’t tell anyone) that my motivation to stay clean is pretty much gone. I mean, why bother with ablutions? It takes up precious working time! Now that I don’t commute I can work an extra 2 hours a day. Without showering or dressing properly I gain an extra 35 minutes (what? I like a long shower!) I would say that not washing is win/win, but…
I showered this evening for 2 reasons: first, I couldn’t honestly remember the last time I had washed. And (b) I could smell myself. For real.
A quote just for Petra: There’s a tramp in the house. Oh, the tramp is me.
Since this is my first political post (it references the Mayor of London) I am putting up a politically charged photo. Rebel.
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