Windows

 

 

 

 

I had trouble sleeping last night and for some reason my mind went back to a scene from about 30 years ago. At the time, I thought, "This would be a great opening line for a novel."  The problem was, not being a writer, I could never form the perfect sentence.  Let me describe the scene.

It was dusk and I was standing at the kitchen sink after dinner.  Looking out the window I could see three other houses, and though I couldn't see inside them, from each of them I could see a single light from the kitchen window. In that moment I thought about the inter-connectedness of our lives, how many women were standing at kitchen sinks at that moment? How many had stood at those sinks in all the years past or future? It wasn't a gendered feeling, a sense that women were toiling in the kitchen. It was more comforting than that, a sense of timelessness and continuity. But, even then, there was a hint of something else. Loneliness is too strong of a word, but certainly a feeling that I was alone, or solitary.  

So, now someone can take those opposing ideas--connection and solitariness and write a novel!  I've given you a great start.

Not able to sleep, and still struggling with how I could write the perfect opening scene of my never to be written novel, I wondered out into my 17th floor city view living room.  Looking out the windows, seeing all the other lights and activity, but also the dark and quiet buildings, I was reminded of how we go through life surrounded by people, connected to and loved by many, but still alone.

Sounds way more depressing than it felt!  Which is why I'm not a writer.

 

 

What's it worth?

 I live in Chicago and make frequent trips to Northwest Indiana.  The trip is pretty straightforward, expressway nearly all the way.  I have two options--use the Illinois Skyway and Indiana toll road, or use the Dan Ryan and Bishop Ford expressways (note that now that I live in Chicago I no longer use highway numbers, like 94 or 90 or 80, that's just not how we do it here!)  On a good day, the trip on either route can take as little as 42 minutes.  On a bad day, it can easily be 90 minutes or more.  Generally, the toll route is faster, but costs about $8 one way.  Before leaving either Chicago or Indiana I use my map app to get an estimate of the time for each route.  If the non-toll option is less than 8 minutes longer, I will take it.  If the difference is more than 10 minutes, I take the toll route.

                                                 

 

What to do in the range of 8-10 minutes?  Clearly, my time is worth somewhere between $1.00 and $1.25 a minute and , but exactly where?  I've found that in that range I begin to consider the time of day, the amount of daylight, the weather, and how likely I am to run into an unexpected delay once I start on my route. Occasionally, I have even taken the longer, non-toll route if I'm not in a hurry, it's a sunny day, and I feel adventurous.  But, even there a limit exists. I can think of no situation where I would take the non-toll option if the time difference was 20 minutes or more.  

                                     

 

Similarly, I work out a few times a week at a gym located about a 20 minute drive from my apartment. Within 2 blocks of the gym there is free on-street parking.  Right in front of the gym is metered parking which costs about $3.00 for an hour.  Generally, I park on the free parking street, but if the weather is bad, I'm late or tired, or just cranky, I pay to park.  

The moral of this story, everyday we make minute economic decisions which make very little economic sense.

                                                 

 

Normal

 I've been thinking lately about what is meant by the term"normal."  

It first occurred to me when I was looking at a set of lab results from a blood test.  For every thing tested there was a "normal range."  Noticing that a few of my readings were outside of that range I queried my doctor about whether I should be concerned.  "Oh no," he replied, "We don't worry until the number reaches X." In this case X was a number waaay higher than the top of the normal range.  So, normal is all relative.  There is "normal" and there is "higher than normal" and there is "concerningly higher than normal."

Waiting at the "deli counter"

 I've been spending a lot of time in medical offices over the past year. I think hospitals, clinics, and doctor's offices could use a good systems engineer.

At one office I go to a treatment center and then have a follow up visit with a nurse practitioner. When I check in at the clinic they affix a label to an index card that I am to pass on to the NP check in desk.  Why?  Who knows.

At the oral surgeons, I check in and they give me a tiny piece of paper that I am to give to the dental assistant who calls my name.  Why?  Who knows.

At radiology, they no longer call for you by name after checking in, but give you a little ticket just like the ones you get at the supermarket deli counter.  The assistant comes out and calls for "605!."  However, if nobody answers, they follow that up with "Smith?"  I suppose they could look like raffle tickets.  Which is better, "I'd like a pound of sliced liver," or "Hurray! I won a CT scan today!"?  At least they don't have that little digital display you anxiously watch count up to your number, "Now scanning number 237."

 Of course at each of these offices they ask for my name and birth date at check in. Given the need to speak loudly due to masks and the open seating, I can tell you the age of every other person sitting in the room.  So much for privacy there!

 It is amazing that in the day of high tech, the patient is still carrying around these little slips of paper. When my father was staying at a rehab institution, all medical records were conveyed by fax.  Are medical offices the sole remaining users of fax machines? 

The post-Cuomo encounters

 Recently my university opened its doors to students and faculty for the first time since March 2020. It is great to see so many people back on campus and we are doing a good job with safety, over 90% of faculty, staff, and students are vaccinated and masks are required in indoor spaces.

With opening comes many first of the year celebrations.  A few weeks ago I presided over our science departments' student research poster presentations, followed by a BBQ.  It was a happy and joyous event, and both our university president and provost stopped by to congratulate students and meet faculty.  Of course, this was a great photo opportunity.

Posing with the president and provost, both male, I detected a bit of uncertainty on their parts as to what the appropriate stance should be. Arms across the back, waist, or shoulder?  No physical contact?  Wait for me to initiate any contact?  There was this awkward little dance of arms up, arms down, arms touching, not touching.  There was absolutely nothing that made me uncomfortable, but I can see how the Cuomo situation has trickled down.  

Maybe it is good for us all to have to think about how we touch each other in professional settings?

Don't sweat the small stuff....

My father had a saying, "Don't sweat the small stuff, and it's all small stuff!"

I'm trying to keep that in mind these days.  Last week I had a medical test scheduled and preceding the test there were some mix-ups and confusion around the scheduling which required a few phone calls and emails to resolve. I admit to having a mild obsession with time and calendars and schedules. I don't like to be late, I like to know what's coming up, I like to have a plan.  While the confusion was not super critical I noticed that it bothered me more than I would have expected (even with my obsession!)  Then it dawned on me.  Instead of worrying about the test, I was worrying about the schedule.  Instead of sweating the big stuff, I was sweating the small stuff.

Tomorrow I get the results of the test.  This week, so far, I've completely missed 2 of 3 scheduled meetings at work. They were on my calendar, I just didn't look, didn't remember, didn't attend.  That is very uncharacteristic of me.  I can come up with excuses (poor communication, bad night of sleep), but given my previously noted obsession(!) missing meetings is both out of character and upsetting.  So....it dawned on me that maybe I have more anxiety about getting the results than I realize. Maybe instead of sweating the small stuff or the big stuff, I've just stopped sweating altogether! 

I'll be glad when tomorrow is over and I can once again confine my sweating to the gym.

(This is what I actually look like at the gym! ha, ha, ha)

Minimalist Part 2

 This essay was in the NY Times.  I admit to renting a storage space....

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/07/12/opinion/family-possessions-storage-units.html?smid=url-share