What You Think I Do vs. What I Really Do

I’m home everyday and there are always random chores or tasks that I like to do before I work.

Yes, I’m still only working for one hour at a time, when I can will myself to get on.

I think part of the mental turmoil is the long, dreary New York winters. For what feels like 8 months, it is grey and gloomy, or freezing cold and sunny, until one day the weather flips for 3 months of blazing hot. The kind of hot that allows you to fry an egg, or your brain, on the sidewalk.

What happens to the 12th month, you ask? That is just the accumulative good weather that we get in the five boroughs, and those days happen sporadically throughout the year.

The point I’m trying to make is this: as a depressed someone who works from home, I don’t frequently find a reason to go outside. And the weather has me making excuses not to leave my apartment when there are the inevitable outside errands. *Shudders*

I still find things to do in between working that make me feel okay: reading, writing, blogging, taking photos, cooking, baking, cleaning, organizing, playing with the cats, taking care of my plants. You get the idea.

Activities that help me keep my space and mind clean when it so frequently gets loud with anguished thoughts.

No matter how thorough I make my to-do lists, I always have a random extra chore that I end up doing, I usually forget to write this thing down and eventually check it off because it was never meant to be there in the first place.

When my roommates are home, I rarely get anything done. I don’t like to work when they’re home because the internet connection is not as good. I don’t want them to hear (and be disturbed by hehe) what is going on in here. When my roommates work from home, I don’t get anything done.

Therefore, this probably leads them to believe that I am always home and always ready and willing to go outside to answer the door for the constant barrage of packages that arrive for everyone who lives in this building. I get routinely stressed out because I am almost always the only one who is home to hear the loud buzz of the doorbell throughout the day (BY 9PM!)

I want to grab the packages as soon as they arrive because I worry that thieves, critters, or the elements may get to them first. However, circling back to my to-do list, being dressed and ready to collect my roommates’ packages is never on my to-do list, yet I am constantly running outside and lugging those parcels upstairs.

I’m not the doorman. I’m not their mom. I don’t know why I have to feel guilty for not immediately answering the door for my roommates’ packages when I don’t even always check for my own.

It adds more stress. It adds another mental block. It puts a strain on our relationships when they text me asking to bring packages in — or even just take a screenshot of the package from Amazon’s “Order” page and send it to me without even asking me to bring it in.

So rude!

I wish my roommates would stop making me feel bad for telling them I can check for their packages when I am done doing things. I can’t change the way people feel, but hopefully they understand — despite what they think they know about what I do when I am home — that I am not at Prime delivery’s beck and call when the roomies go on shopping sprees.

Going outside is hard enough for me already, and I have my own stuff to take care of. Of course, I will bring in all the packages whenever I can (though I can’t predict whether they would always do the same if our job roles were reversed.)

Yes this sounds like a rant. But it is better to get it out there — like I am going to get myself out there to grab a package, yet again, and do some outside errands on my to-do list in the icy NYC rain.

Vibe check? Moody.

Check in soon.

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