Spoiler alert: I wasn't murdered
A story about working from home (alone), Roman history, Korn, man's (alleged) best friend, fear of axe murderers, and the machines that will come for us... someday.
For the second time in as many days, Christina went to the office. Two years ago, this wouldn’t have been worth mentioning, but these days commuting to a physical office is noteworthy. Commuting is the new work from home.
Although I began working from home a decade before it was fashionable, working from home (alone!) was unsettling. Things were quiet. Too quiet! When my monitor went on the fritz, as it sometimes does, tech support was nowhere to be found. Lunch was a lonely affair of leftover baked ziti and leftover podcasts. And when Mortimer realized that his bipedal treat-dispenser had left the building, his mood soured.
Not that the experience was all bad. With Christina absent, the last bottle of iced green tea was safe, the line for the bathroom nonexistent, and for the first time in nearly two years, I could hear myself think.
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