Honestly, when I woke up Monday morning at 4:40 in the morning to catch my 7:40 out of SFO, via Bart, all I could hear was the Nancy Kerrigan chant (why, why, why?). I even wished some trailer trash punk had beaten the living daylights out of my shins and ankles which would have prevented me from making it to the airport.
Jonathan has done this countless times, i.e. travel for business and getting up at an ungodly hour on Monday mornings and I remember that in a more distant domesticated past, I looked at the alarm clock at 5 once and poked Jon in the ribs, saying, Hey you, weren’t you supposed to catch a flight at 6? In no time he was in the shower and I remember going for another turn under the covers, relishing the warmth of the marital bed while icicles were forming on the windows (I make this last bit up for dramatic effect as there are no icicles in the Bay Area, like ever…)
This second week in Seattle has been a confirmation of the mountain of work that has to be done before launch and after some talk back and forth my manager and I decided that, until that time, it would be better for me to work out of the Seattle office. This puts my Irish adventure on hold but the time difference with Ireland (8 hrs) is near impossible for communication and a lot of communication needs to be done in the next few weeks. It also has some logistical challenges because while I get paid and have health coverage in Ireland, I will actually be living here for the next few weeks… A nice conundrum for HR—I used to just walk down the hallway for HR to talk to a live person but since Amazon is such a maze, you file a ticket for about every question you have.
Soooo… I need some temporary digs in Seattle, so if any of you blog readers has a recommendation, shoot me an e-mail.
Once again I am at corporate housing and while the roof patio looks out over the lake, the space needle and downtown, there’s no AC in the building, the windows don’t open and it has been HOT in Seattle. Last night I was dreaming I had malaria and was called by my manager that I had to review a file of about half a million words by EOD. If you know what that last acronym means, you are not a musician, homeless bum or struggling writer.
Tonight, I walked to Wholefoods again and even though I have a fully equipped kitchen I had no desire to cook for one person. I used to cook most every night and this, too, has been a strange adjustment. Years ago, when I took time off to be with the kids when they were small, I was afraid I’d catch some form of mommy retardation for being on the Mommy Track, and now I seem to have done a 180, acting like a corporate clone which comes with its own form of retardation, I am sure. If it weren’t for (the lack of a) wedding band on my finger (lost that one when I crashed on my bike and they needed to cut my ring off my finger, which still hasn’t been replaced, hint, hint, Jon, are you reading this?), people might think I am one of those women who live for their careers—the ones who have ambition instead of babies and when I was pondering this while serving myself at the delicatessen/one-meal/yuppie stand at Wholefoods I wanted to call out and say, but listen I have babies… and boy do I miss them. And I am not referring to the dogs…again.
And then there is this: the shell shock of a new job and a new office have barely settled in and I want to rebel already. In our building they have whiteboards and markers, everywhere, including in the elevators. Because our section of the office has been soooo quiet, if not to say dead, my Dutch colleague and I rode the elevator down tonight and I could not help myself but grab the marker and put in bold ONGEZELLIG! Take that Seattle.
Other than that, life is swell, but I should have brought Jon, and Caroline, and did I mention the dogs already? Amazon allows dogs, you know; the toilet sign even has included the symbol for a dog. Otherwise the toilets are spotless, the coffee’s brewed 24/7 and the skies are still blue.