Week 3 at the new office, after a year of WFH —
I’m now realizing I’ve spent 3 hours “collecting my thoughts out loud” (a well-decorated way to say “having conversations with myself”)
and I can only pray that nobody in my surrounding set of desks is planning an exorcism for me.
A New Years party *composed of 30 Jewish babyboomers and me* is exactly like an episode of Curb, except the jokes are less comically striking and I've never had to justify my hair to Larry David