I'm at this very moment seated at an honest-to-goodness desk, at a real office, with human beings all around me, filling the air with sounds of officeness. Did I capitulate? Become a Tokyo salarywoman? No, I've merely been hired as a temp at a company, to fill in while the regular editor is away a few weeks. And I only agreed because they promised me I wouldn't have to start work until 1pm, which earned me a lot of eye rolling from my husband.
Since beginning the job, I've been enjoying:the conversational exchanges with my temporary colleagues, as opposed to the more limited ones I have with Edward, when working from homesampling the different obentos sold in the area around the office, because I can't seem to bring myself to pack my own lunches and save tons of money in the process
Today's obento: salmon and ikura strewn over rice, with a bit of egg garnishing (the yellow strands)my much-earlier-than-usual morning walks with Edward, as I realize the quality of light at 9am is quite different from the light at 2 or 3pm--the former is clearer and sweeterreading on the train, because somehow that seems like an extremely acceptable thing to do, whereas sprawling on the carpet at home and reading seems unproductive and slothful; additionally, the limitations of the train ride allow me to draw out the reading of a book and savor it for days, when I am more apt to gulp down books with a strange, uncontrollable greed the little food omiyage (gifts) regularly distributed around the office; so far, I've had soba manju, brownies, thin little crunchy almond wafer-cookie-like things, and little mochi things
On the other hand, I have been disliking:trying to piece together acceptable office attire from my scarcely-updated-since-college wardrobehaving to worry about bad hair days again; lately, bobby pins have become my greatest allies in the fight to subdue my ridiculous hair; however, I have to work with restraint, or after a few hours I start to feel like I'm wearing Magneto's really heavy, really butt-ugly helmet.evening rush hour and getting up close and impersonal (think their-sweat-is-your-sweat close) with strangers who often (a) smell weird, (b) have weird/annoying habits that trust-me are staggeringly amplified when endured at close range for half an hour without relief, or (c) think your body is their personal Lazyboybeing made to feel conscious and guilty of the fact that I need to pee WAY more than normal human beings--I have a little bladder, what can I say?
But, all in all, this is very short-term stuff and soon I'll be able to put away the ugly formal shoes and forget how it feels to be pressed up against a strange man with exactly 28 long hairs sprouting from his neck.