Parkinson’s Law in Reverse

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay
Many clock-faces

‘Work Expands to Fit the Time Available’?

Mr Parkinson, you’re so wrong!

Parkinson’s Law was apparently a saying coined by Cyril Parkinson in 1955. But today, I’m watching time expand to fit the work available, rather than the other way round. In our case, the work we expected to take four or five days, began at the end of one week, ran through last week and is still ongoing halfway through this present week. And I’m the site manager – but only insofar as I’m chasing up workmen and trying to keep the residents of Testosterone Towers happy.

You mean we have to keep looking at THIS?

Aged people and neuro-divergent people really do struggle with chaos and uncertainty, and there are bucketloads of chaos and uncertainty round here. It makes them uncomfortable and on edge.

Fortunately, I work part-time. The rest of my time is being spent making futile attempts to keep everything else under control. Testosterone Towers’ residents have clean, dry, ironed clothes. They can see as much carpet in our lounge as the slow progress of the work elsewhere will permit. (I can’t put things back in their rightful places whilst there are still dustsheets, plentiful dust, and ongoing work all over the place.)

The residents are fed on time (because one of the residents is comforted by timetables); and the supermarket shopping is still happening to the usual plan.  I’ve been using oven-ready meals.

What is harder for me is endeavouring not to annoy the most easily annoyed resident. As for keeping tabs on the project, my struggle is to keep a balance: enough for my efforts to be perceived as diligent, without actually annoying the working people I’d rather not offend!

I’ve booked a cleaning team for next Tuesday. But will they be able to come then? Watch this space.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Sofa, So Good: Working from a Chaotic Home

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay
The ankles and feet of someone on a painter's ladder

I’m working, but my mind is scattered and my physical surroundings are a nightmare. This is not the place to describe the unique hell of a redecorating project where everything is in boxes, piles or under dustcloths; floors are paint-and-plaster-dusty; deadlines are consistently missed; explanations are sketchy; and it emerges that the 9-5 by which I have structured the past 42 years is a concept entirely alien to our decorator. As is the concept of Monday-to-Friday. Hence the total absence of workers today.

Lounge? LIVING Room?

Throughout the pandemic, I managed the 9-5 quite effectively from my home-office alcove. Small, cramped, but entirely within my control. Take me out of my alcove into another room in which one can neither lounge nor live comfortably, and I am like a fish out of water. I need two small coffee tables – but the tables are glass – the mouse is ill-at-ease on them. And I’m accustomed to using a mouse rather than the trackpad. Makeshift arrangements make this just about workable. I have carved out a whole morning of peace and solitude, and by and large, it’s working.

Yes, it’s stressful. And I’m not alone – I live in Testosterone Towers, where habitual stress is bad enough, but habitual + domestic upheaval stress makes things extraordinarily difficult, and my caring responsibilities are challenged to the max. (Remember, I said that I’m annoying? I am reportedly becoming more annoying by the day, and I don’t seem able to help myself inadvertently doing it. It’s not that I don’t try to be good, either.)

Can I blog about research today? No, I don’t think I can. I’ve just ordered all the tech I need for my forthcoming oral history project – that felt like quite an achievement! – and I have just received a wee book that a kind Ancestry-user sent me about their ancestor, who happens to have been the brother of the professor I was researching in my post-Christmas idleness. The best thing I can do this morning is to read it from cover-to-cover, then get back to compiling a repertoire list that I started last night. (My need to occupy the lounge – ha! lounge?! – may be keeping Testosterone Towers from their daytime TV, but last night I found I could perform activities like searching the British Newspaper Archive quite effectively, whilst ignoring the TV entirely, happy in the knowledge that Testosterone Towers is not being inconvenienced at all.)

I saw an academic event on Eventbrite that I’d have liked to sign up to, even if it’s a non-working day. I dare not sign up to it. I can’t imagine the redecorating being finished by Tuesday.

My apologies for moaning. Maybe things will be better by this time next week!

Image by Kris from Pixabay

Rewire, Redecorate … Research?

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay
White paint-pot and brushes on a sheet of newspaper

Rewired

Followers of this blog will recall that our Edwardian home was rewired at the end of November. ‘We’ don’t take kindly to upheaval, of which there was plenty, so I had to unpack and put back a lot of goods (including hundreds of books) afterwards  – notwithstanding the need for remedial decorating  – in order to make the place bearable for Christmas.  Note the ‘We’ and the ‘I’.

Redecorate: Magnolia and White

Today, the remedial redecorating commences (not a DIY effort), so I’ve been repacking goods all over again. I’m the youngish, averagely fit one – and I’m already knackered!  Even my FitBit agrees.  My back has only just recovered from November/December; my fingers are sore; I’ve run out of empty boxes (how, I can’t imagine); and am almost out of floor on which to stack stuff. We have too much stuff. 

I have done my employed research for the week.  Does anyone else working from home recognise this kind of thing?

‘I thought you might have started cooking dinner by now?’

‘But I work until 5 …’

And I did work. Then I cooked. Then I packed and stacked, and continued stacking and packing this morning.  The lounge looks like a library on the move –  and is now so much smaller, in terms of cubic air volume, that it’s actually perceptibly warmer with the same heater settings.

But even women who feel as though they’ve been dragged kicking and screaming back to the 1970s, against their will, have their limits. The kitchen is being decorated first, so it’s fish and chips for tea. There will be no cooking here.

Research?

I’m only contemplating research to the extent of acquiring a decent recording device this weekend! I’m starting an exciting new research project soon, and as soon as the ethical approval process is complete, I’ll be raring to go. Monday will see the Magnolia and White project going on elsewhere in the house – hopefully my own working environment will by then be spick-and-span – with me sitting enjoying remote training to ensure that the new research project goes well.

Now, what colour shall I inject into my magnolia and white dining room to make it a joyful zone in which to work …?

Image by tookapic from Pixabay

Back to Normal on Monday? Well, Maybe …

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay
Very tall pile of empty cardboard boxes

Monday mornings are contracted research time. And research there will be. I have a couple of things to proofread, for a start, quite apart from picking up the threads after last week’s chaos.

The Thrills

Reader, if you like the thrill of the unexpected, and a break from normal routine – go for the total rewiring of an Edwardian house. The chasing round the landscape for TrashNothing and Facebook Marketplace free cardboard boxes. The filling and stacking of them. The hotel stay, the restaurant bills, and the, ‘Could you possibly come back a day later? Making sure your ceiling doesn’t come down is going to add a bit of time to the job’ kind of thrill.

There were three high points: we went to the cinema. Unheard of! I swam lengths for a solid hour in the hotel pool. And discovered that Terikyaki salmon fillets are my absolute favourite food. Other than that, it was a question of just getting through the experience of being away from home, and without my own car. In a room with one desk and one chair, but two occupants, I never felt less like trying to do any research, so it’s a good thing I wasn’t expected to.

Chaos

And then we returned home. The Edwardian house is now rewired (ceilings intact); spotted with plaster patches in walls and ceilings – meaning I’m currently getting redecorating quotes – and it was so dusty that we were grateful to have arranged a full, in-depth clean. And of course, everything needs unboxing. But not everything all at once, right now, if decorators are to start doing things to walls and ceilings! My books are back on shelves, though I don’t know for how long – still, they give the impression that everything is settling down again.

Unsettled

But worst of all, it seems that some of us are very, very unsettled at such major upheaval. And it feels as though I’m on the receiving end. I never want to hear about our discarded lampshades again! But I will. Repeatedly. (Frankly, I don’t CARE if our old dusty lampshades were discarded without our agreement. Now we have new ones.)

And … Breathe!

It will be with a great deal of relief that I open my work laptop tomorrow morning, take a deep breath, and try to think only about research for 3.5 solid hours!

Rewiring (Domestic, not Neurological!)

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

A smell.  (My nose is as finely-tuned as my ears are not.) 

A melting fuse.

One thing led to another, and we’re getting the whole old house rewired this week.  I’ve rearranged my part-time morning and taken my part-time day off. And I’m not going through to Edinburgh.  With everything packed up in boxes during the upheaval, and ourselves displaced, I simply can’t get on.  I hesitate even to tackle emails, in case I forget where I got to in the different aspects of my work. I can’t simultaneously get my head around the intricacies of research, which explains why I’m not blogging as much as usual.

It appears that the ‘semi’ part of my retirement is to be dedicated to caring for the old house.  (Elderly houses have their own unique requirements and challenges,  different to older humans. At least Himself doesn’t have dodgy ceilings and won’t need redecoration.) 

In semi-retirement, it falls to me both to coordinate things – and sometimes repeat things.  (I’m the only one with hearing aids. Although this is disputed, I find they work fine, as evidenced by the fact that I get to repeat what the electrician said!) And, particularly but not entirely, because a rewire is stressful for all concerned, I find myself on the receiving end of quite a few adverse comments. (I’m apparently frequently very annoying.)

I’ll be glad when this week is over.  My kind and unfailingly courteous historical publishers await me!