Letters From The Other Side Volume 1

There’s a small part of me that wishes I had lived in the era where the only form of communication with those far away was letter writing.

Except, you know, for the lack of air conditioning, electricity, internet, vaccines and living beyond childbirth.

Back in the day, when people travelled, there was no Facebook, Instagram and Twitter with which to immediately notify one’s loved ones of one’s adventures. One had to save up all their stories and then describe them in vivid detail on a piece of paper to be mailed at the nearest post. Then it might take weeks and possibly months to reach the addressee.

I’ve often wondered how I would chronicle my life now in that way?

Dear Friends and Family,

I hope this letter finds you all well. As I write this, I’m watching a news report from the Hurricane in which the reporter appears to be barely able to stand in the blustery wind and torrential rain, yet the people behind him are walking normally. I’ve watched it on a continuous loop for ten minutes because I’m too lazy to get up and fold laundry.

As you know, ever since leaving Satan’s Butthole and crossing over to that place known as “The Other Side”, my life looks completely different than it once did. The journey has been slow at times and incredibly fast at others. Some days I know exactly what to do and some days I’m completely lost, looking for direction.

The people here at the refugee camp have, for the most part, been quite friendly and helpful. I have found a kinship with some of the more potty-mouthed among them. One youngling makes my vocabulary sound like an eighty-five year old school marm. I never knew there were so many uses of the word “cunt”. It just goes to show that we can learn so much from today’s youth.

In fact, I have noticed that people here are not nearly as sensitive as they were in Satan’s Butthole. Affection is shown through taunting, off color jokes, and pranks, which are tolerated by most everyone.

As you may or may not recall, at Satan’s Butthole a man could sexually harass at least eight women before he got fired, but one complaint about a friend hugging another friend in full view of everyone was grounds for a “write-up”. No, I’m not exaggerating.

Though I am quite busy, I find the work here to be far less tedious and stressful than Satan’s Butthole. Of course, they appear to be breaking me in slowly, so maybe I just haven’t reached “peak level” yet. Everyone asks how I’m doing and how I like it, as though they are afraid I might run away and never come back. Those who haven’t been to Satan’s Butthole just don’t understand how there can be different kinds of stress. The stress here is manageable. The stress at Satan’s Butthole makes you want to tear off your clothes and set yourself on fire, taking as many of the corporate minions with you as possible.

Still, I find life on the “outside” difficult to get accustomed to. Planning my day is a challenge, as I was so accustomed to having it planned for me. How do I know when to eat lunch? How will I know when I need to use the restroom? What do I do if the phone doesn’t ring?

There’s no time clock to punch. Nobody eyeballing us is we come back from lunch a few minutes late. Nobody walks by and asks why we’re just standing around talking.

Yes, that’s right, my friends and family. Here on the other side, if you get your work done, NOBODY FUCKING CARES WHAT THE HELL YOU DO THE REST OF THE TIME!

There are always sacrifices to be made, however. I have broken my cardinal rule. The one thing I held sacred for seventeen years at Satan’s Butthole.

I bring home a laptop and sometimes I work at home.

I swore I would never be one of those people. You know the ones. They bring their work laptop home on the weekends “to get a few things done”. They bring it on vacation “just to keep up”. They open it when they can’t sleep because “might as well get some work done”.

That’s right. I am one of “them” now. I even have a bag and a charger.

Queue the dramatic soap opera music:

The Husband Dude: What’s the matter, darling? What’s that thing on your shoulder?

Me (looking away dramatically): It’s nothing. I swear it’s nothing.

THD (overly-concerned look on his face): Something is different about you. You can’t hide anything from me. You’re my wife!

Me (closing my eyes, trying to turn away): Please don’t make me say it. I just can’t bear to say it out loud!

THD: You must! I couldn’t stand for you to keep something from me!

Me (lip quivering dramatically): It’s…it’s…it’s a laptop bag!

THD (looking aghast): WHAT DID YOU SAY????

Me (throwing my arms up in the air): I sold out to THE MAN! This is my sold-out-to-the-man-bag!

Me: *crumples into a heap on the floor*

THD (gathers me up in his arms like Rhett Butler gathering up Scarlett O’Hara): It’ll be alright, darling. I still love you. You’ll always be my wife.

Me (looking lovingly up at him, eyes brimming with tears): Do you mean it?

THD (lovingly stroking my cheek): Of course, darling. I mean every word.

(We kiss passionately but chastely because this is still daytime TV and all the Stay at Home Moms have toddlers running around.)

THD: Now get to work and make some bonuses! (Pats me on the ass like I’m a football player and leaves the room.)

Yes, friends and family, working at home has taken some adjustment. I don’t do it often. I mainly do it on weekends when I want to prepare some things so that Mondays are not so hectic. However, working at home has it’s challenges.

Like when the cat wants to lay on the laptop.

Or The Husband Dude is listening to death metal in the next room and comes in every five minutes to show me a video on YouTube.

Or the dog decides she wants treats so she keeps begging to go outside because she knows she’ll get one when she comes back in.

Or Facebook is just way more interesting at that particular moment.

Or there’s a blog post to write.

I hope you will all understand when I don’t interact as much on social media as I used to, or I’m unable to respond to comments as quickly on the blog. I’m not ignoring anyone. I’m just unable to do any of that during the day (and sometimes too tired at night). I always try to respond to your comments here on the evening of the same day you post them, so be sure to check back if you’re curious about responses!

As for all of my blogging friends…I’m not always able to read your wonderful posts the same day you publish them, but I promise to try to catch up on the weekends!

I would not be doing as well on this wonderful journey if not for all of you who continue to support this little blog and my hope to someday be a full time writer. I appreciate you all more than you know!

Until next time…stay weird, my friends. Normal is boring!

Love always,

Kat   XOXO