Part of the morning routine is typing in my password — twice.
The first time, my fingers and brains aren't quite talking to each other loud enough. The second time, I slow down and ensure the communication is understood.
The coffee is brewing on a four-minute timer. If I'm lollygaggin around the kitchen, I might not set a timer. "I'm right here. I got this." the lazy-me ensues.
Today, we set a timer.
The sometimes-forgets-shit-me spoke up - "SET A TIMER" ( at first holding back a lecture to lazy-me ) - then following up with, "It's a nice confirmation of our task being accomplished. A nice beep, beep, beep." ( talking to self subconsciously while the rest of us quietly decide not to get involved before we've had our caffeine.
As I write this, I might be revealing something that some of us didn't sign the waiver for. Did we give permission for typer-guy to be documenting our life story out in public like this? What if he pulls another one of those over-shares? What if he's not the only one that can type, and he gets up to take a break and repressed-fear guy grabs a shot at the keyboard? What then? Huh? How many of us there in here -- you know.. voices?