The Places We've Left Behind

Late last fall, I moved into a new office. I went kicking and screaming, because taking time to move meant abandoning other priorities I had (like finishing the revision of the faculty development course I wrote and teach, which has been "almost done" for going on four months now), and also because I didn't want to undertake the overwhelming task of sorting through the accumulation of about 10 years of papers.

But I managed to do it. It took weeks and weeks of work, as I knew it would. But in the end, I had much less "stuff" and I was in an office with windows again. It turns out that it is a pretty nice space. You may see a photo above. That's my Norfolk island pine tree to the left; I bought it as a tiny, decorated "Christmas" tree, and I've had it for more than 25 years now!

With the coronavirus pandemic, Penn State staff who can work at home have been instructed to do so, for at least three weeks. Only essential people who must be on site and those who cannot work from home are left on campus.

On Monday morning, I went into the office to grab some files and print some stuff and make some phone calls. But my assumption at that time was that I would do just that about once a week for the duration of our "work from home." So I didn't take EVERYthing, just SOME things. I thought I'd be coming back soon.

However, every day, there seems to be more and more urgent or upsetting news; things are changing by the minute. On Tuesday, an email went out stating that all non-essential PSU buildings would be locked. We sought clarification: would our key fobs still work? Could we still access our office spaces? The head of Outreach operations and facilities sent out an email sharing additional information: both buildings we work from would continue to be accessible, but with limited staffing on-site.

Throughout the week, things continued to be cancelled. All non-essential businesses were ordered to close. And on Friday morning, the very same person in our organization sent out an email saying, "If you need something from your office, I might suggest you get it as soon as possible before potentially further steps are taken to limit access."  Well, that lit a fire under me!

So I ran into the office to grab some things: more files, all of my hard drives, and of course, I brought home my tree. The tree barely fit in the backseat on the floor of my husband's Chevy Impala. It is a prickly thing, as it turns out, and moving it wasn't the barrel of laughs I thought it would be. But now it is home where I can make sure it is watered regularly and looked after.

I also photographed my office, which I miss already, and a chart on my whiteboard of a project I am working on (yes, the revision of my fac dev course, which I hope to ONE DAY finally finish!). I miss my morning drive, my morning music, my morning pictures. I miss the pretty little horses, I miss the Arboretum, I miss my co-workers and friends. I miss eating out. I miss my family. I miss my normal life. Oh these simple, everyday things we took for granted.

So here is a picture of my office. And if you're looking for me, at least for the next few weeks: I'm not there!  I could not decide between these two songs, so here they both are. First is the Zombies, with She's Not There. Second is Bob Dylan, with I'm Not There.