Is there anything worse than waiting for the last hour of a work from home day to end? I generally really enjoy remote work. Any day I don’t have to shove myself into a disgusting moving tube full of nasty ass people is a good day. Being able to comfortably and flexibly make my own coffee, lunch, and snacks is as great for morale as it is for the wallet. And I have to say–I work so much better with some TV on in the background than I will ever work while confined to a cubicle with shitty carpeted walls. But man, that last hour, when you can see the sunshine streaming in through the living room windows and you’re itching to go for your first run in a week after getting over a sinus thing…that just feels like a whole week unto itself.
Massachusetts restaurants still can’t do takeout booze, but many have started selling cocktail kits (sans alcohol, of course). Typically these consist of mixers and instructions. I’m picturing a dive bar selling shot glasses with an empty box labeled “air of depression” for homemade Fireball shooters.
I miss restroom graffiti.
Don’t take any medical advice from the President, the Vice President, or the Secretary of Housing and Urban Development. I don’t care that the last guy’s a brain surgeon. Don’t do it.
I lost like $30 bucks today trying to short Cracker Barrel when that shit spiked over $100. Bullshit.