On Thursdays I take music calls. Which just means I’m on the phone with music industry people all morning talking about new projects and it’s fun because I know them, and it’s a little catch up and all that, and, of course, everyone asked me how I’m doing and I told them a little sheepishly, that I feel guilty at how much I love quarantine.
I’ve always thought that working from home would be torture. I really love going into the office. I like a space. I like walking from my desk to the conference room with a mug of coffee in my hand and a pace that says, “I’m doing something important.” I thought mixing work and home would feel like I’m never off the clock, but honestly, when did it anyway?
There is time now.
My entire life I’ve amassed a collection of records that is testing the structural integrity of my floorboards and I’ve thought maybe I’ll finally get to listen to all them if there were a worldwide pandemic and I was quarantined at home for an indefinite amount of time. This morning I listened to a Crosby, Stills & Nash record that my dad gave me out of his collections when I was 18. I’d never played it before.
I love food writing. But I’ve never felt that I had the romance brims from Jonathan Gold or Julia Child’s writing. But on the first day of quarantine I spent three hours making a chicken broth from “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” and then I texted my mom to get the recipe of my great grandma’s dumplings and I think maybe I didn’t feel that romance before because I hadn’t spent enough time with the actual food.
And I know that I am in a place of privilege here. My job seems safe (at the moment, and I have certainly been suppressing that thought.) I can work from home. My job is my life. That is why I feel guilt of saying that I’ve been absolutely joyous. Which is a surprise because I live alone. I am utterly by myself (expect for my cat Slim Jim.) But now, I don’t feel lonely because I’m not going somewhere after work. That pressure is gone.
In this world that has constantly been pushing for more more more, I have been overwhelmed. I haven’t been able to keep up. There is never time to just listen to an album, mow down that instant queue, or make soup, but now there is, and I’m positively joyous.
Tonight, I’m finally going watch “Midnight Cowboy.”