I guess I should have expected it, but I came back into the world of Not-on-short-term-disability and everything was suddenly different. I mean, I knew some things would be. I knew I would no longer be able to have coffee be my sole form of beverage in a day. I knew that for several weeks I would be able to play the just had surgery card and make The Man carry things for me. I knew I was going to get awkward hugs from people I barely knew.
But some things were less expected
Harry went from this:
So now I have an new boss. Her name is Paula. She is neat. She gets things done. Especially things like redecorating and actually answering my questions.
She also has no idea how to use Excel. I don’t know how she has never gained this skill, but I am frequently called into her office to add simple subtraction equations to her spreadsheets. Also I use google to help her find things.
I look like a CHAMP.
Basically, she is an awesome boss.
Also. When I went to surgery. It was spring. I could usually still wear my sports jackets to work. Days were warm, nights were cool.
But the biggest, most drastic change, the change I wrote this post for, was when I came home from work yesterday and found this:
On the one hand. The Man looks good with short hair, its flattering and he is much more comfortable in the heat I just mentioned. But really I’m conflicted.
Suddenly, my hair is no less impressive than my boyfriend’s. I am no longer competing with those perfect curls. The long stretches of time and bizarre hair products necessary to keep him shiny and well kempt. He needs less time in front of the mirror than I do.
Dare I say it?
My hair might be more remarkable than The Man’s.
No no, that’s crazy talk. I can’t go there.