Knowing The Words
When I first looked at this single room to rent down in Birdtown, all I had been thinking of was getting away from that bitch. I swear I’d have moved into a refrigerator box out behind K-Mart. Ok, that’s an exaggeration, but I’d really had it with her. Other men may have been ready to put up with just about anything to come home to the captivating and enigmatic Miranda every night; at least the nights that she was actually there. But after that business with Stuart and then his brother, I was through.
But now in February, with winter a permanent condition, I’m having second thoughts about this set up. For one thing, this place is just weird. I can’t concentrate and this latest project from the client got extended. I’ll pull up the new files to sync and find myself gazing out the window at the river. An hour can pass like that with nothing to show for it. Everyone thinks that working from home is such a picnic. My clients don’t care how late I stay up working every night or that I’m developing repetitive motion injuries from hour after hour of scrolling through documents. All that matters is hitting their deadline.
When Sunday rolls around, the one day I insist on not working, the only thing I want to do is sleep, but Mom goes all martyr on me when I try to get out of dinner up there.
