A post from the slanty room.

Have I told you about our slanty room? As this is an old house (and jam-packed with ghosts! I mean, probably), the floors are all sloped, one way or the other. But in one room—the room that is to be my office, I get my own office!—the floor dips so dramatically toward the center of the room, it’s like you’re in a funhouse. A boring funhouse. And unfortunately, both my desk and chair are on casters. So as I’m writing, the desk is rolling toward me, and I’m hanging on to the keyboard tray to keep from rolling back further, which causes the desk to roll some more. So by the end of my precious Internet time, I’m smack dab in the middle of the room.

Take the casters off the desk and chairs, I can hear you thinking. Yes, I know. I just haven’t done it yet. But I will! Right after I roll over that 401(K) from 1997.

Hey! I got a job. My former employer, a corporate behemoth that treated me kindly back in the 20th century, has called on me. I will work from home for them. And they will give me money! So this works out for both of us. This is about as much detail as you will get out of me about my new job, which really isn’t that interesting, and don’t you love it when I’m this vague? Does it make me mysterious, or just boring? Boringly mysterious?

Anyway, because I have this real job now (part-time, from home, yay), I hired a babysitter. This is a first for me. Henry always had the benefit of being looked after by a relative or close friend. I always had the benefit of not having to hire someone. And oh Internet, the whole thing makes me uncomfortable. The whole stranger-in-my-house-with-my-sweet-boy thing. It’s not even like I’m leaving them alone. I’m going to be upstairs! And probably running downstairs at regular intervals!

His new sitter is eminently qualified—frankly, more qualified than I am to be left alone with a child. I still feel odd about the whole affair. It took me many weeks to even start looking for someone, because of the oddness. Maybe she’s a lunatic! Who will take my child! And sell him to, hmm, an organization! A mismanaged one!

Also, when I'm with him, I often wish he were elsewhere, and when he’s with someone else, I mostly want him to be with me. She’ll be here every morning (only for the next few weeks, until his summer camp starts) and already I’m wistful about our, uh, special mornings together. When I would try to get him dressed, and he would yell. When he demanded ice cream, and when I refused, punched me in the thigh. Oh, sweet memories!

Aaaand I'm rolling away again. Goodbye!