andamu

It has been a rather unusual week. I have had arrays of meetings that take large chunks out of my days, leaving only disjointed snippets of time to try and get some work done, and consequently have stayed really late at the lab.
The lights are automatically switched off at seven. There's a manual switch to turn it back on, but that goes off after an hour too, so every hour you're plunged in darkness with only the walkways illuminated, playing the waiting game, hoping that someone else is making the trek to the switch to turn it back on, and wondering at what stage you should capitulate and turn it on yourself.

Thursday I went in much later than I usually do, driving in full sunshine and noticing the beauty of everything, finished by the thick coat of frost on every detail glinting like gilded edges in the bright sun.
It made me realize that I have been missing winter, its beauty. Going in early (7) and leaving late (5.30+) meant that until recently I have been making the drive both ways in the dark.
It is better now, but still the faint morning light is mostly obscured by thick clouds and/or heavy fog whenever it is not actually raining. This is after all winter in the Pacific Northwest.
But it made me appreciate that the experience of the day (and the season) for people who come in a couple of hours after I do would be quite different.

It reminded me of my student days back in South Africa, while I was living in the same high-rise apartment block perched on top of a midtown shopping mall I mentioned in a previous post. For a student job I worked in a bakery in the mall which was a really convenient commute! But on weekends and during break my days consisted of waking up and glimpsing the grey light of early morning over the city, locking my apartment door, walking down the internal corridor, getting into the elevator, and getting out on the bakery's floor. At the end of the day I would reverse the process, the only difference that the grey light I saw when I returned to my apartment was that of early evening.
During breaks I would live for entire weeks never setting a foot outside, and never seeing more than a few brief snatches of daylight except on Sundays.

At the time I could not tell you what the source of my vague discontent, perhaps even depression, was. It was only once I moved to a different apartment that it sunk in. Just like the unusual experience on Thursday showed me what I have been missing recently.
Perhaps I should reconsider my work schedule. I am fortunate that my company allows us great leeway in deciding which hours we want to work; to some extent the main focus is getting the job done on schedule, and being available for required meetings - beyond that it doesn't matter when exactly you are there. It is a great way to help the employees make the necessary choices to maintain the work/life balance.

On the other hand if I make the choice to go in later and stay later, it would negatively impact my family. For the sake of experiencing a few minutes of pleasantness during my morning drive I would be coming home after Angel Face has gone to bed, gulp down dinner alone or, if my precious one decided to wait for me, force him to have cold or drying food as well, spend a desultory hour unwinding, making sketchy conversation, perhaps flip through a few channels, sort out the laundry, have a shower, and crawl into bed.

Perhaps then not such a good idea.