I mentioned I’m back at work in one of my recent posts. It’s been a mixed bag in terms of adjusting – ultimately I’m just not that into the concept.

It’s very different to how it was when I worked for my friend Tora’s brother remotely – we both did and we’d both disappear for long stretches of time to nurse cups of coffee and hang around Primark, leaving the actual work to be crammed towards the end of the month. The last week was always a blur as we frantically busted our tits to catch up.

I’m not as carefree as I once was and now I work harder from home in case someone accuses me of slacking. You’d think the slacking would be a perk of the situation but I’m too scared to take the piss. My only real concessions to mucking about are not wearing any bottoms and having Gossip Girl on in the background, the volume turned right down.

I do worry about how we’ll all acclimatise to being out and about again once this is all done. I’m practically feral now and unused to physical interaction with anybody but my husband or the cat. My step son came round at the weekend after not seeing him for four weeks and it felt almost like a violation to have to converse with another human being. The office is going to be a crazy place when everyone is back in place – will I shrink away from the noise, the light – the heat from so many bodies surrounding me?

When I was a teenager I had this thing where I didn’t know what to do with my arms. Legit I would walk about and not know how to position them. I tried letting them hang by my sides like wet spaghetti but that didn’t work, so I’d cross my arms across my chest instead. This got me some unpleasant comments about my offish body language. In fact, when the local bully realised something was up with the arm thing she made my life a living hell for a while, spreading rumours that I was weird, stuck up and thought I was too good for this world. When I fall asleep I often have the thought that my arms are still the problem. I sleep on my front and my arms just get in the way, too stiff and un-malleable to get comfy – how good would it be to be able to detach them when you’re not using them? Just pop them out like Barbies, and put them in a drawer under the bed until morning.

I digress but when I think of my own re-entry into polite society in a month/two months/a years’ time I think of how uncomfortable I was then and I wonder if I’ll develop similar idiosyncrasies. We’re all weirdos I know but I don’t think it would take a lot to tip me over the edge. So I’ve now gone from worrying about not worrying enough to worrying about my arms and how they’ll fit into the new world. There were other odd behaviours – a fear of crossing the road that meant every walk I went on took double the time – it wouldn’t be surprising if I saw that one again too.

Anyway I’m WFH and bar a couple of technical issues I’ll be speaking to people on the phone for the foreseeable. This isn’t part of my current role and is something I haven’t done for three months. I’m kind of looking forward to it though, I can’t lie. I miss the hustle and bustle of the call center, I’ve always thrived on that environment. While I can’t really recreate it in my own front room (unless I get the cat to sit too close to me and talk to me about Love Island in between calls), it might be grounding to go back to my roots. I’ve always been good at it and I’m interested to see what remains of my soft skills.

Is it home time yet?