Happy Home Dance

I'm working from home today, for the second time this week. As I almost called in sick yesterday, it was a near thing to spending more time at home than the office. A near thing. I wasn't truly sick; I got a nosebleed yesterday morning in the shower. The last time this happened was in Boston, where I actually got them not frequently, but not infrequently, either. They were usually accompanied by dizzy spells, one so bad I couldn't get out of bed for hours. I went to the doctor (read, stupid college health clinic where they treat grad students and 18 year olds alike - as in the same). They took my blood pressure, and while on the low side, it wasn't dangerously low, so I was told that all was well. They sent me home. Now I have a real job and real, grown-up insurance, and yet, I have not been to any doctor in over a year. So I've made a list of doctors and priorities, and today I'm calling to make an appointment.

But working from home has advantages beyond the fact that I am wearing gym shorts and not wearing a bra. I'm also listening to music out loud - loud! And more than just dancing on my chair (which is now a ball in the office - dancing is both easier and more dangerous) I can get up and shake it like a Polaroid! I decided this morning that it's time to reinstate the Happy Home Dance. In Boston, when I first moved into my very own tiny studio I would come home from work, kick off my shoes, pick a song, push play, and spend my first five minutes jumping, shimmying, swaying, and occasionally, flailing. It wasn't that I didn't love my roommate, but it was so great to know that I was in a domain that was totally mine, and no one would intrude, laugh, or be shocked at anything I did. And so I danced with abandon.

When I moved here I spent time after work either suffering from heat exhaustion (a/c didn't join me in this apartment until this summer, and last September was HHHOT!) or unpacking and organizing. Not to mention the fact that I now have to get out of work clothes before the sweat from the walk home has rendered them unwearable for another day. Somehow the Happy Home Dance slipped from my routine. As I rediscovered an old favorite cd and song this morning (Starlight in Daden by Ekova on the Traveler '00 album) I found myself jumping. And shimmying. And flailing. And the Happy Home Dance has been reinstated.