Et tu pater?

So I’m talking to my dad on the phone recently, and sans seqway he says, “did you see…what’s, he’s name, Dr. Goo, Gu…” (my dad is not good with languages).

“Dr. Gupta?” I say.

“Yeah, he was on Good Morning America talking about how two glasses of wine or more for women can cause problems.”

And I say, “Yes, I’m familiar with the research [hello, I’m a health writer!], and actually it’s interesting how different news outlets chose to present the research—alcohol BAD (irregular heartbeat risk with too much wine!) or alcohol OK (light drinking poses no heart risk to women).”

Besides, I don’t make a habit of drinking more than two glasses a wine a night. I won’t say I’ve never had more than two at a sitting, but it’s not common…”

“Still, it’s something to think about,” Dad says.

What I don't say is this: “Oh, Dad, not you too!!”

Sometimes I miss my office

Who am I kidding? I ALWAYS miss my office.

Late last April, I left a reporting job I’d been at for almost 3 years. It was my first—and most likely only—job with an office.

And it was great. Who wouldn’t happily abandon cubicle-land for their own office? I had a window. With a view of….the side of Union Station!! Woo hoo! And if I squished the left side of my face up to the window and craned my neck, I could look up First Street and see the Capitol dome. Or, closer by, the every-other-week convergence of emergency vehicles for yet another unattended package in the train station. And who could forget the summer of striking, chanting, workers and their giant inflatable rat?

Bnd it wasn’t just the view. I could hang some nice pictures, turn my music up pretty loud (actually I sometimes used to do this in cubicles too), put my feet up on my desk, and shop online without looking over my shoulder. In short, I had a DOOR. Pretty damn handy. Because even in at a company with a “nap room” and all sorts of wellness programs, lying down on the floor to meditate (and no that’s not a euphemism for sleep) in a cubicle is pretty awkward.