As I write, I take in globs of my lunch, a Malaysian recipe with a rural new Jersey spirit: venison, peas, and carrots in coconut milk with lemon grass and chilis. The Pyrex leftovers dish balances on my knee and the keyboard wrist pad. My posture is terrible, my digestion about the same as I sit hunched and twisted. No doubt there are others on similar style working lunches.
This is the disgusting home office. Very convenient, I can follow my instincts at home. A bit of food falls on my sleeve... what would you do? Get up and retrieve a napkin from the kitchen? Allow a precious second to be wasted in transit? Or, use your mouth as a wet vac?
This morning I put Jared's Wednesday morning stewardship volunteer clothes in the laundry. He and Jim take a volunteer group onto a nature preserve and rip away at the invasive plants with chainsaws and loppers. His clothes reek of 2-cycle engine oil. Unfortunately, the Trader Joe's brand of laundry soap I purchased for $3.99 plus tax also reeks of 2-cycle engine oil. The finely rendered aroma must come from one part "with lavender essential oils" as the label claims and 99 parts petroleum-based fragrance. At least it's "pH balanced" for someone's water. Regardless, the entire basement smells like the "Best Heats Oil"/"Oil Heats Best" (you have to drive it to know what I mean) section of the New Jersey Turnpike with a drop of (lavender) crude.
I also disassembled the Eureka Pet Lovers vacuum cleaner to clean the canister and filter. I'm not sure what else to say but space junk is everywhere these days. Debris in outer space, debris in my space, taking up space. This vacuum is for Pet Lovers, not gardeners with a woodstove that vacuum once a month. I need a vacuum to vacuum out my vacuum.