Category Archives: Working at home

Goodnight, Irene



Not to make this weekend’s storm all about me or anything, but one good thing about being out of work is that I didn’t have to worry about this morning’s commute into the city. I offered to drive my husband into the city if it turned out to be an issue.

He usually takes the MTA Express Bus from our corner; in Manhattan he transfers to the 1 Train south to Houston Street. He had planned to walk south if the trains weren’t running; his office is about a half-hour walk from the bus stop. But he told me that the trains were back in service when he got into town.

The subways had been shut down at noon on Saturday in anticipation of the storm. Some anonymous MTA employees called it a massive overreaction, but considering how lack of preparation has led to horrible devastation during other storms and natural disasters, maybe it was the best thing they could do. The trains were running this morning, and a lot of people apparently chose not to go to work, so the commute was not the hellish scenario my husband had anticipated.

The ever-helpful MTA announced that riders who prepaid for unlimited Metro cards will not get refunds on the two days they lost. I hope they change their minds on that one. It really is nasty to stick it to people like that, especially those who may already have lost money by not being able to get to work this weekend.

The worst of my problems, as I finally emerged from the apartment after two days, was that I could not get to Michael’s Art & Crafts because roads were closed, either by downed trees or downed wires. Reports were that over 4 millions homes and businesses lost power, and I’m guessing that Michael’s and other stores along Northern Boulevard were affected, because employees were not answering the phone. I ended up at my local Staples instead, a veritable nightmare of parents and kids swarming the aisles, hunting and gathering school supplies. I escaped as soon as I could claw my way through to the door. The last weekend in August doesn’t mean that much to you when you don’t have kids–until you encounter a whole congress of them in one place.

A little excursion around my neighborhood found the downed tree pictured above, just a few blocks away. It was a pretty large tree and was completely across the street — but it appears it did not damage anything except the sidewalk. A good example of what could have happened, but didn’t, during Hurricane Irene.


Taking the day off


Last week I was editing a book, but as I was done the first full read, I took a much-needed break and spent the day swimming and hiking at a state park with a friend. I live in Queens, he lives in upper Manhattan and the state park was in New Jersey. I picked him up in Midtown and we drove through the Lincoln Tunnel. out into the wilds of Jersey, to a park that he’d known as a child.

The park had a small man-made beach by a lake with a roped-off swimming area. Little schools of minnows swam by our feet as we entered the water. It was August and we’d had a number of hot summer days recently, so the water was just cool enough to refresh without being shocking.

Because it was Monday, a workday for most, the beach was not crowded. There were mostly moms and babies, plus a few well-behaved teens and some complete family units. If there were any other adults our age there–without kids–I didn’t see them.

My friend works in catering, so he works sporadic, odd hours. I’m still collecting unemployment, looking for work and trying to see if my freelance business takes off. We both agreed (who wouldn’t?) that working the weekend and taking Monday off was way better than working 9-5 in some crappy office dealing with petty politics and crazy bosses.

But I was tired. Being unemployed means I have been keeping weird hours. I’ve been staying up late, spending a lot of time on the computer–sometimes writing, sometimes doing legitimate research, but other times just chatting and checking FaceBook and LinkedIn and Twitter to see if anyone has said anything in response to something I said, or if there’s anything worth responding to myself. I know I need more sleep.

So after the first quick dip into the water, I lay on the beach, my body covered in sunscreen, and tried to sleep. My friend had mini-speakers for his iPod and he was playing a Rolling Stones’ album. The volume was set relatively low–but it reminded me of my childhood on the Jersey shore where someone blasting music on a boombox never seemed that big of deal. I guess hearing the Stones themselves created a nostalgic mood for me. It was “Tattoo You,” an album that came out the year I graduated high school. (Yes, holy crap…don’t tell anyone it was thirty years ago.)

I’d brought two notebooks with me, one a personal journal and the other a multi-purpose book for drafting blogs, drawing, and jotting down ideas, to-do lists and get-rich-quick schemes. I always have the notion in the back of my head that I “should” be writing. I let that go for the moment.

I dosed off and had a warm, pleasant catnap. last I’d looked my friend had been lying back in his beach chair with a hat over his face. Since he was being quiet I guess he was napping, too. No one had to be anywhere and we didn’t need to set any alarms.

Eventually we started to come back to life. My friend wandered off to inquire about boat rentals and I opened up one of the notebooks and did actually get a page or so of a potential blog written. But when he returned and proposed ice cream from the truck at the edge of the parking lot, I abandoned my notebook. We talked, ate chocolate popsicles, took another swim and later took a hike in the nearby woods.

I think having my friend there allowed me to let go and not worry about life, writing, or my job search for a while. He’s an actor when he’s not catering, and is an outgoing, very friendly type, the kind of person you’re happy to hang out with. It is hard to get upset about things around him.

I really needed the day and the company. It is hard to relax when you feel like you should be doing something every hour of every day toward getting a job. I did send some resumes out last week and I made inquiries about freelance and full-time work with a publishing house where another friend works. So far there have been no job offers, and I’m still waiting to hear about the freelance.

On the beach, I wasn’t beating myself up about not being where I was supposed to be or doing what I was supposed to be doing. I’m doing the best that I can to survive these economic times, and I will survive them. When I do start working again, I’ll be working hard, and who knows when I’ll be able to go to the beach again. I’m going to enjoy it while I can. And I did. A perfect day.


You, too, can be a housewife!


Housewife Pictures, Images and PhotosI laugh because, since being laid off, I’ve ended up being the one who does more of the cleaning, cooking, and laundry these days. I’m actually terrible at it. Not that I can’t do it well–it’s just that I get wrapped up in other things. When I do laundry in our building’s basement, I come back upstairs, get involved writing a blog,  sending out a resume, or doing some research, and I’m late getting back downstairs to put the load into the dryer. (Usually during the day it’s OK because I’m the only one doing laundry, but on occasion I’ve annoyed people who were waiting. Oops.)

I clean sporadically, and forget when we need milk, veggies, or cat food. I’ll look at the clock, realize how late it’s getting, and rush to the store before my husband gets home — or I’ll scrounge around in the cabinet hoping there is one more can of green beans. Generally, we eat fresh vegetables, but I try to keep a can or two around for emergencies … and feel embarrassed when I’ve neglected to replenish the stash. As I type this, I am supposed to be starting dinner. I will … in a minute or two … or three.

Merriam-Webster’s defines “housewife” as “a married woman in charge of a household,” and, since I’m not in charge of anything, I don’t think I’m really a housewife. Besides, I’m not doing anything different than what a single, unemployed woman does. I’m just working at home. And working at home can be a dream come true, for those of us who have dealt with long, crowded, too hot (or too cold) commutes; offices where you don’t fit in; offices where your cubicle gives you only an illusion of privacy; and, of course, lackadaisical, angry, passive-aggressive, clueless, not-being-team-player coworkers and/or bosses. And I set my own hours.

But as I attempt to either find full-time work or freelance jobs, working at home, for me at least, can also be a struggle. There are upside and downsides.

The pros:

    1. I can get up whenever I want.
    2. I can work in my pajamas.
    3. I can listen to whatever music I want.
    4. I get to play with my cat.
    5. I’m saving money by not having to commute and not having to eat lunches out.

The cons::

  1. My cat is a distraction.
  2. I can see more stuff on the internet than I could at work — and it, too, can be a distraction.
  3. It’s easier to procrastinate.
  4. It’s easier to overeat.
  5. I don’t have human interaction.
I was debating whether the last item on the list was a “pro” or a “con,” but I guess in general it is a con. I do need human interaction. I don’t know if I miss it every day, but I have to make time to go out with friends regularly.
The procrastination and overeating and distractions are just things I know are there and I need to work on them. I make lists for myself, I set a schedule of what should be done with reminders on Google calendar (thank you, Google gods), and I sit down to do the work, perhaps with the promise of a reward later.